Silent Tears
by gobbysmiles
Summary: PLEASE REVIEW! What-if scenario about Jal keeping baby. Lots of mentions of Chris obv, and rest of S1/2 gang. Unfortunately don't own Skins, though it would be fab if I did. Based around S1, 2 and the possible fictional future... :
1. Silent Tears

**SILENT TEARS**

She didn't know why she'd said it.

He had just stood there shouting at her, telling her that she'd messed it up. It was mad, him being disappointed in _her_ but it came out before she could stop it.

"I had it, okay? I had the fucking abortion!"

He stopped shouting. She saw a flicker of a smirk cross his face.

"You had the abortion?"

"That's what I fucking said!"

"Good. Well now you can stop moping around and wasting your life"

"Oh, don't you worry about that. I haven't ruined it after all. Happy?"

Sighing, he shook his head and turned around.

"Fuck it" She laughed at the irony of it all. "What is it, hmm? Am I never good enough for you? Ace and Lynton do nothing but sit around making up t-shirt slogans and silly little raps. But me, I can never do good enough just because I look like _her_. And then you had to bring her round to get me to do what you want. It's always what _you_ want. You always said Chris and me never had a future. You actually wished for it! Well, I guess you got what you wanted. Fuck, it's his _funeral _tomorrow_._"

He didn't turn back. He just stood there, motionless.

"What a great dad you are eh? Remember when she went? You said...you said that you'd always keep bad stuff from happening. But you didn't, did you? You couldn't"

"Jal"

"Shut up. Only Chris made anything better. And now he's gone and I'm stuck with you."

"Calm down, okay Jal..."

"Piss off. Just leave me alone"

Jal watched as her father slowly left the hallway. She stood there in front of the doorway, shaking with anger, memories of all of their fights replaying in her mind. And then her mind changed to better memories, and worse ones. Chris.

--

Silent tears rolling down her face, Jal slumped against her bedroom door. Before she could help it, she started to sob violently, her head shaking in her hands.

"Why did you leave me Chris? Was it so hard to keep off the spliff? I...I don't know what to do without you."

She knew that she couldn't go back on what she'd said now. "Why did I tell him that?" she whispered to herself. Jal cursed under her breath.

"Shit. Shit! Why the fuck did I tell him that? Chris, help me! What do you want me to do?"

She closed her eyes, willing his arms to suddenly wrap around her. She hated herself for thinking it, but she would have given anything, _anyone_ just to bring him back. She wished bitterly that it was Tony who had died, someone else's boyfriend. Or Cassie. What had Cassie done apart from get in the way, and then abandon Chris when he needed her the most? Cassie hadn't bothered to tell anyone, to wait for the ambulance. She had just fucked off somewhere with their lucky coin, somewhere that nobody knew about. If it wasn't for Cassie, then maybe her Chris would still be here, and then maybe she could have faced up to her dad better, without telling lies, disgusting lies.

"I would have moved in with you, you know Chris. I should have when you went to hospital the first time. I shouldn't have ever left you. It's all my fault that you're not here, that I got pregnant and that now I've told Dad that I'm not."

She imagined his response, "Course it's not babe. It's fucking fate's fault or something. "

She laughed under her breath, but she couldn't shake the indescribable feeling that nothing was ever going to be right again. She had fulfilled all the things that she'd ever wanted: reaching the final of BBC Young Musician of the Year; becoming the best clarinettist in the country; as petty as it sounded, managing to stand out with friends like Michelle and Maxxie who were always in the spotlight. But for all her talents and achievements, Jal felt empty. And the only thing that really mattered to her was gone, and she couldn't get him back.

She felt sick suddenly. She chucked her pyjamas into her bag, a bag which she bitterly remembered had been bought for her by Chris for her fifteenth birthday, before he started doing drugs more often than once or twice a year.

The tears started coming again. Crystal clear, pear-shaped and perfect, they ran down her face, falling onto her lap. Snot was plastered to her skin but Chris wasn't there to mop it up this time.

Gingerly, she folded her black dress and put it in her bag for the funeral. She knew that Chris wouldn't have wanted her to wear black but she couldn't bring herself to pick any of her other dresses. All of them held memories that reminded her of him. This black one was the only dress she had that didn't make her feel freer, more like herself. It made her wallow in her misery; blame herself and everyone around her for all of her bad luck.

She slammed the bedroom door behind her and set off down the stairs. She ignored Ace and Lynton's stares as she crossed the kitchen to get to the back door.

"Jal..."

"Please Ace. Just leave it"

"Did you really have the abortion?"

Jal looked into her brothers' faces. They seemed to reciprocate her dread, not wanting to believe that their sister could have done it.

"Yeah. I got rid of my baby"

Shit! She had to lie to them too now. She couldn't tell anyone the truth. She'd fucked up everything now.

"Look Jal, don't go. We'll come with you tomorrow"

"Lynton, I don't want you to fucking come. I can cope by myself. Without Mum, without you and now without Chris. "

"Sis-"

"I'm going to Michelle's. We're going out tonight"

She opened the back door and ran out quickly before they could stop her. She hated herself for being such a bitch. She had become everything that she and Chris hated – a compulsive liar and a cold-hearted cow.

--

Jal got Sid to go on the bus with her. They sat in silence because they both knew how it felt to lose the people that mattered to them the most. Apart from them, the bus was completely empty; the only sound was the wheels turning and the faint hum of the road. Anyway, Jal was scared of being on her own all the time. Tony was probably at Michelle's and Sid could get rid of him for her. Unfortunately for Jal, soon Sid started being, well..._Sid_.

"You alright Jal?"

"I'm fucking fabulous Sid"

"Sorry, I just...wondered"

"Hmmm"

"So, looking forward to tomorrow?"

She turned to look at him, raising her eyebrow

"I guess not"

"You ever hear from Cassie, Sid?"

Sid looked at Jal, noticing her puffy eyes and how vulnerable she looked. Since Chris died, nobody knew how to talk to her. Fuck, nobody knew how to talk to her from the very start of Chris's illness. When he was in hospital, they couldn't do anything but watch her. She stayed there for weeks, sat by his side waiting for him to magically wake up and be better forever. Once, Sid, Maxxie and Anwar had sneaked in at nightime to bring Chris some vodka, only to find the both of them curled up inside the hospital bed together. Jal had been asleep, not realising that Chris was lying awake, stroking her hair and wishing that he was better for her. The boys had left quickly before Jal and Chris had realised they were there. It seemed unfair to intrude on the little time they had left together in between all the nurses, doctors and visitors.

"Nah, she's being a complete pillock"

"Sid!"

"Yeah well, maybe she shouldn't have buggered off to wherever the fuck she is"

"Maybe"

"Jal..."

"Yes Sid?"

"It's not your fault, you know"

"My fault?"

"We all know that something else's been going on with you but whatever it is, it's not your fault that he's gone. When my Dad died-"

"Sid! Shut up! There's nothing going on with me, okay? Apart from the fact that the best friend I ever had's died and that all of my other pucking friends have pissed off and started treating me like a bloody alien, everything's hunky dory."

"Pucking?"

"It's a long story"

They looked at eachother and started laughing. For a moment, Jal forgot all about Chris, the baby and her lies.

As the bus pulled up at their stop, they pulled themselves together and picked up Jal's bags. When Michelle answered the door, she was wearing some flimsy, green sparkly micro-dress.

"Shit Jal, you shouldn't be carrying all of that"

"Shut the fuck up 'Chelle," Jal whispered angrily when she passed Michelle, "I'm not a fucking invalid"

"Tony's in the lounge, Sid"

"Right. I'll just, erm...go, then."

They watched Sid sidle off into the nearby room, shuffling his feet and muttering under his breath.

"So, you want to go to my room?"

Jal shrugged and followed Michelle down the blank white corridor. Thankfully, Michelle had figured out how to work the blinds, so for once they weren't actually exposing her to the world.

"Are you alright, Jal?"

"hmm"

Michelle watched Jal, sitting in the corner of her room. It was so strange; normally Jal was the grown-up one, who always knew what to do and what to say. Now everything was different. Jal had no idea what to do, and for once Michelle realised and wasn't just dreaming about her latest date with Tony.

"I'm sorry, Jal"

"What for?"

"Well, for not being there, I guess. And for messing everything up with Cassie and Sid. And for... making you tell Chris. I didn't - "

"It doesn't matter 'Chelle"

"Oh, well, I'm sorry anyway"

"It doesn't matter"

Jal clenched her teeth, wishing that she hadn't come here, that she had gone to Chris's flat instead.

"Do you want to go out?"

"Sure"

"Well, we could go to that bar, the new one in town. Actually, that's probably not a very good idea, is it, with the ba-"

"Club's good," Jal forced herself to smile, "This dress okay?"

Michelle glanced at Jal's dishevelled green dress and knee-high yellow socks. Her eyes were puffy and red and her lip gloss had long since worn off. Still, she knew Jal would hate to have to get changed in her current mood, and Michelle didn't even know if her clothes would fit Jal anymore.

"Course it is, Jal. Let's get your make-up sorted, yeah?"

--

Jal sat at the bar, swilling a mouthful of pineapple juice. Michelle was dancing with Tony to some 'up-and-coming, hot new band' and Sid was talking to Maxxie, Anwar and James about, what Jal suspected, her.

"You alright?"

A tall, red-haired girl was staring down at her. Jal ignored her, but she sat down next to her anyway.

"You don't seem very pleased to meet me"

Jal glanced at the girl, shook her head and took another gulp of pineapple juice.

"You're friendly aren't you? Anyone would think something terrible had happened to you"

"Hmmm"

"Hey, are you that Ronnie Fazer's daughter?"

Jal stared at the girl, who seemingly had not caught the message that Jal wanted her to piss off.

"Unfortunately"

"Your dad's mint! Can you get him to listen to my demo CD?"

"He'll just want to shag you. And screw you over. Like he does for everyone else."

"Shit. Not so friendly then?"

"Look, can you just go away? I'm not really in the mood for pleasantries"

"Jeez, what's up with you?"

Jal scoffed

"Why should I tell you? Some stroppy little tart who's only interested in getting my dad to produce her shitty little CD"

"Oi! You're a real bitch, you know?"

"Yeah well, maybe you'd be a real bitch if your boyfriend had a), not bothered to tell you he was dying, b), just happened to forget that he was suffering from acute brain trauma so smoked a bloody spliff and c), died as a fucking result. That good enough for you?"

The girl was silent. So was everyone around them.

"Fuck!"

Jal ran out of the club, not bothering to tell anyone where she was going.

Michelle and Tony wandered over to Sid and Anwar, who were watching Maxxie and James dancing _extremely_ energetically on the dancefloor.

"Where's Jal, Sid?"

"Dunno"

"Anwar?"

"Oh, I think she went outside for a mo"

"Outside?"

"Yeah. She looked a bit upset actually"

"Course she's fucking upset, An! Shit, I was meant to be looking after her. "

--

Jal got her key out and tried to open the door. She didn't know where else to go, but her key didn't work.

"Fuck. Fuck!"

She fiddled with the lock but it didn't work. Jal banged on the door, kicked it and even attempted to open it from the inside via the postbox.

"Shit!"

"What's the matter Jal?"

Jal spun round and saw Effy sitting on the plastic railings, carrying a bottle of vodka and a spliff.

"I can't get in"

"The council came and changed the locks this morning. Tony said"

Effy took a drag of the spliff and breathed out the smoke in hearts, which seemed to break in half before disappearing into the air. Jal stared at her, noticing how Effy always seemed to demand the attention of the world around her naturally, like Tony did before the accident.

"What are you doing here Effy?"

"Just hanging around. Got some stuff to sell"

Effy took a small plastic bag filled with white powder out of her top and dangled it in front of Jal

"Want some?"

"No."

"Sure? It'll take all your worries away "

Effy looked straight into Jal's eyes, daring her to rise to the challenge.

"It's okay, thanks. I'll just stay here"

"Up to you"

"Yeah. So's everything else"

Effy wandered off, and walked to a huddle of boys in the park . Swearing, Jal wished that the locks hadn't been changed. She peered in, and noticed that his stuff was still in the flat and his drug packets were still on the wall. Jal picked up a nearby brick. She would never have done this a few months ago, but all she could think about now was getting inside. She hurled the brick at the window, but she wasn't strong enough to leave more than a crack on the yellowy, smoke stained glass.

"Bugger!"

It started to rain, and soon Jal was left sitting at the blue front door, sobbing in the pouring rain.

"Just come back Chris. What the fuck were you thinking, leaving me here to deal with this mess? It's not fair, you know. Ace and Lynton won't be able to trust me again after what I told them. And sometimes the only thing I can think about doing is ending it all."

"Jal..."

Michelle was standing in front of her, a stripy pink umbrella over her head.

"Help me 'Chelle"

Michelle sat down in the puddles next to Jal and put her arms around her. It was the first time in weeks that Jal had let anyone touch her.

"I don't know what to do without him. Everything's turned to shit."

"Did you throw that brick at the window?"

Jal glanced up at Michelle, her tears glistening in the moonlight.

"Yeah, I couldn't get in"

"You really loved him, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I really love him 'Chelle"

They sat there for ages, Michelle being a good friend for once, and just staying. Jal cried in her arms, the umbrella trying to keep their hair dry, even though they were soaking wet already.

"Can we go home now 'Chelle?"

"Yeah Jal, let's go home"

--

Jal had lain awake all night. She felt terrible about everything: the argument with her dad; telling Ace and Lynton that she'd had the abortion; telling that annoying girl in the pub to piss off. But most of all she couldn't shake the thought that maybe it was her fault that Chris died. If she had been there more, stayed with him that night, then maybe it would have turned out differently. She couldn't forget his face when she told him that she was pregnant. For just one second he looked bewildered before breaking out into the most excited, Chris-y smile. She had only seen him that happy once before, and that was when they first got together. Telling Chris that she was probably going to get rid of it was horrible. She'd never seen him look so disappointed and upset at the same time. It was even worse than when they went to see Mary and Peter's grave. Being Chris, he'd tried to cover it up, but it was too late. Jal knew that she had really hurt him, more than his parents did, more than Angie, even. For half an hour, they had just sat together on the sofa, Chris holding her in his arms. He kept breathing more quickly and hugging her tighter, as if he was trying to get her to change her mind. The problem was, was that Jal's mind was already undecided, and it just made everything harder. She'd known that whatever she did with the baby would change their relationship forever.

Afterwards, she had to let herself back into the flat because she'd left her mobile on the table next his room. Jal heard what Chris had said, but more importantly, what Cassie said,

"You could make her change her mind"

Jal snatched up her phone, ran out the flat and kept running all the way home. Then she had to sit there talking with her dad for an hour, recounting how her audition went that afternoon. As if either of them really cared about that.

Could she really cope with a kid now, on her own?

"Jal?"

Jal realised that Michelle had been watching her, her hand resting on Jal's shoulder. Jal ignored her. She didn't want to be reminded of what had happened the previous night, and what was going to happen today. Instinctively, Jal began to rub her stomach, wishing that somehow it could bring him back, like some sort of paternal link. She knew that deep down, she didn't want to have an abortion, especially after Chris's reaction to the news. But she probably had to now, having told her dad, Ace and Lynton that she had. Suddenly, she felt scared again and the problem about the baby just seemed to get bigger and worse. Jal wanted only one person, but she couldn't have him. She didn't want to listen to Michelle trying to get her out of bed for the funeral.

"Have you ever climbed inside a duvet cover?"

They pulled the sheets over their heads and Jal and Michelle snuggled inside the duvet, Jal wrapping Michelle's arms around her stomach. Jal wished and wished that it was Chris behind her and not Michelle. It finally dawned on her that Chris really was never going to come back, she was never going to feel his lips on hers or his arms around her or even just hear him breathing next to her in bed. Jal didn't want to think about the baby. She had to get rid of it now; she didn't think she could bear having to look after a kid who looked just like him, or even have to go through the whole thing again, if it had inherited the same illness. Michelle was jabbering about how "nice" it was inside the duvet. Jal hated how her friend always seemed nervous and protective around her now. It made her angry and even more upset, which didn't seem possible. Her mind flickered back to the argument with her dad, and she knew that now she could never go back to what it was like before Chris.

"I had the abortion"

"I would have come with you"

"No. I needed to do it alone"

Immediately, Jal hated herself for lying to Michelle too, but it seemed like no-one understood anymore. If she did have an abortion, she didn't want anyone else there – she was too ashamed to think she was going to get rid of the one thing she had left of Chris. Maybe if she actually did it, it wouldn't exactly undo her lies, but it would make them, well, more true.

--

Michelle had convinced Jal to go to the zoo. Of course, Jal's mind wandered back to the baby. Michelle had been odd around her all morning, talking about anything but Jal, Chris and the abortion. Jal was sick of it. She knew that Michelle thought that she'd done – or was going to do – the wrong thing.

"You think I've made a mistake, don't you?"

Jal wanted her to say yes, to convince her that she should have kept it, and then Jal could turn round and say that actually, she hadn't had the abortion after all and then maybe Michelle could help her confess to her dad and brothers. Jal tried to catch her eye, but Michelle didn't look at her until the last moment.

"No. I think you've made the hardest decision that I've known anyone to make"

"Shit," Jal thought, "what the fuck am I meant to do now?

She shook her head and chucked her ice cream, but it didn't relieve her frustration. She shouted at Michelle, and got dragged to the aquarium; for the first time in weeks, Jal laughed properly. It was the first time since Chris's jokes that Jal laughed without scoffing or being bitter.

"Fuck it!"

Jal managed to forget about her problem all morning. Michelle convinced her to wear one of her purple dresses and Jal knew that forgetting about Chris really wasn't the right way to send him off. It was unbelievable what Sid and Tony had done, but Jal felt like this was the way Chris would have liked it. It wasn't until they read out their results that Jal remembered. Two As and a C. She didn't hang around to discuss them with anyone, she just went straight to the boy she wanted most.

Jal didn't notice Chris's dad sneaking up on her, but it shocked her how much he sounded like Chris. For a few seconds, she actually believed that Chris was with her, but as soon as she opened her eyes and snapped back to reality, she realised that he wasn't.

The two of them sat there, Graham and Jal, recounting memories of Chris. Graham did seem guilty; he did seem to want a second chance, a second chance to be a parent and to know about Chris. It was strange, how a stranger could make you think so deeply, but Jal realised that she had done most of her deep thinking in the presence of strangers recently. She knew that she definitely had to go to university now. After all, now Chris was gone, the only thing she had left for sure was her clarinet. She didn't know what to do about the baby though. Chris dying messed everything up in her mind and Jal didn't want to have to deal with anything from the past anymore. Maybe, just maybe, if she ignored it hard enough, then she wouldn't have to think about it again.


	2. Knock Knock

**KNOCK KNOCK**

Jal huddled in her bed, pulling the covers up around her. She was scared to death of what was happening to her.

"What's up my little Jalapeno?"

Startled, she shrieked at the bright blue eyes grinning at her.

"Chris? What's going on? Why are you..."

"Sick of me already?"

Jal did feel sick. She had tried so hard to forget. She wanted more than anything in the world for it to go back to what it used to be like. University was meant to be the best time of her life. Instead, it was the worst.

She shook her head, holding back her tears, "Help me Chris. I don't know what to do."

"Just go with the flow, babe! Shit works itself out in the end. Like it always does! Noah, Moses, fucking Superman – it ALWAYS works out for 'em."

Jal sighed, focussing on Chris's hopeful face.

"You're not real, are you Chris? You can't come back for me can you, for–"

Jal glanced at her stomach guiltily, something she had taken to doing often.

"For us?"

But he was gone. He always went then. Every day, Jal tried to stop dwelling on her bitterness, stop imagining him, stop asking a dream person, her dream boy, questions that could never be answered or were pointless. Frustrated, she bit back her tears. Jal was scared to cry now, because she knew that once she started, she could never stop.

She dragged herself out of bed and into the shower in the cramped en-suite. She didn't turn the light on because then she would have to look at her stomach, and she'd gotten so used to it by now that she knew where all the right bottles were without being able to see them. Jal wrapped her towel around her body, struggling to stretch it over her bump. Angry and frustrated, she grabbed her toothbrush and smothered it in toothpaste, grimacing as she brushed her teeth. She kept brushing harder and faster until her gums started to bleed. But Jal was so immersed in her bitter thoughts that she didn't notice until the blood started running down her hand from her toothbrush.

"Fuck! You're so stupid, you fucking stupid...stupid shit-head!"

Jal threw her toothbrush in the sink and picked up her hairbrush in her bedroom. She tried pulling it through her hair but it was so tangled and thick that the brush got stuck. Cross, Jal screamed irritably as she tugged the brush out. She chucked the brush angrily across the room and it ricocheted off her music stand, knocking her papers off so they floated around the room.

"Shit. I can't do anything pucking right."

She smiled slightly at the bittersweet memory of Chris using all of his silly non-swearwords. Jal glanced at the mirror and looked herself up and down. She had covered all of the full length mirrors with her old clothes, the ones which didn't fit her anymore. Jal strode across the room angrily to retrieve her hairbrush, knocking off the clothes covering one of the mirrors; for the first time in months she saw herself clearly. Jal gasped as she observed her stomach peeking out from behind her towel, her skin stretching out taut and her belly button sticking out. Stroking her stomach gently, Jal felt movement inside her, as if it, the _baby_, knew who she was. Jal sobbed bitterly, sitting down on her bed, her head in her hands. She knew now that there was no going back. Jal had always known what was going to happen, what she hadn't prevented, but it wasn't until now that she really thought herself properly pregnant. As in _becoming someone's mum_.

Wiping her eyes, she stood up and started to drape the fallen clothes back over the mirror, avoiding her own gaze in the mirror's reflection. Sighing sadly, Jal put on a baggy navy hoodie, grey tracksuit bottoms and a white scarf to try and hide her swollen stomach. It was weird, but somehow Jal irrationally thought that if no-one else could see it and she couldn't, then maybe her problem didn't exist at all. She reached over her bed for her clarinet. It was getting harder and harder to play easily now. Jal was paranoid the whole time that she would get found out. She never went out clubbing or to the pub like she used to. She hated herself for drinking, even though she knew that it didn't matter, or at least she was trying to convince herself it didn't matter.

Slowly, Jal collected up the sheet music strewn across the dark red carpet. She had begun to open her music books when someone started to knock on her door.

"Go away. I'm practising my music."

Jal started to play her clarinet loudly, her fingers dancing across the metal keys. It was the only thing she ever did these days apart from eat, sleep and go to lectures.

The knocking persisted. "I need to talk to you!"

Jal froze at the sound of the visitor's voice. She couldn't see Jal. Nobody from home could see her, they'd guess. Especially _her_. It freaked Jal out how _she_ always knew everything.

Jal stayed silent, willing the unwanted visitor to go away. It wasn't that long ago that she had abandoned them and Jal had wished her dead, pinning all her suffering on the idiotic blonde stick.

The knocking stopped abruptly. "Please don't come back," Jal muttered under her breath over and over again.

Jal stared stonily at the door, terrified. She hated how reclusive she'd become, but every time she spoke to someone with blue eyes (although not quite as wide and sparkling) or anyone who cracked a joke (although not quite as insane and random) it made her remember _everything_. Jal found it too difficult to handle – she always ended up crying in her room, wishing that it had all turned out differently. Michelle used to phone every day, but gradually, it decreased down to once a week or fortnight. Her dad called every other week to make sure she hadn't "messed her life up" again, in some different shape or form. Jal always had to sound peppy and couldn't be argumentative on the phone so that they wouldn't guess how miserable she was, because then they'd make her come home. And then, she'd get found out.

"Please Jal!"

"Fuck!" Jal cursed under her breath. It seemed that the knocker had not gone. And she wouldn't go anytime soon.

Angrily, Jal got to her feet groaning and yanked the painted wooden door open, careful to hold her sheet music in front of her stomach.

"Hi Jal!"

Jal glared at the skinny blonde girl with her childlike face and mis-matched clothes. Jal hated Cassie, for giving Chris the spliff, for not looking after him, but most of all she hated Cassie for leaving Chris when he died.

"What do you mean, fucking 'hi'? You've completely ruined my bloody life."

Cassie stared back at Jal vacantly.

"You think it's alright to give someone who just came out of hospital a fucking spliff?"

"Jal-"

Cassie looked scared; she was beginning to tremble.

"No! Do you know how horrible it is, getting a call from a stranger at two o' clock in the morning telling you that the only person you ever loved had died? I had to go and identify his fucking body to check. Cos you couldn't even stick around for a few bloody hours. No-one knew where you fucking went!"

Cassie started to fidget with her fingers, scared of Jal's anger. She'd never seen her so cross and was shocked by her behaviour. She hadn't thought that Jal would be upset to see her. She only thought about Sid and herself.

"I didn't mean to...I didn't want it to happen like this."

"You think I did?"

"Oh, erm...wow."

Jal sighed and sat down on her bed. Cassie stood awkwardly by her door, suddenly looking very fragile.

"How did you find me anyway? I haven't told anyone which building I'm in, let alone which room."

"I've got contacts!"

Jal shook her head grinning. Cassie smirked, glad that she'd managed to do something right, finally.

"I couldn't find you either you know. No-one could. Michelle wouldn't tell me anything and your dad said you hadn't been home since..."

"Chris's funeral."

Cassie tried to look into Jal's eyes but Jal was avoiding her gaze, staring at her sheet music.

"I'm sorry Jal. I was too scared. I couldn't control anything. I hate it when it doesn't happen the way it's meant to!"

Jal glanced at Cassie, drinking in not only her vulnerability but also her irrational and stubborn traits.

"You can't control everyone, Cass. I wish we could, that way he'd still be here. But it's not up to us, is it? You can't keep running away from stuff when you can't-"

Cassie launched herself onto Jal for a hug before she could get out of the way. Shocked, Jal tried to get Cassie off her, but it was too late: she could feel Cassie stiffening and pulling off to look at her properly. Jal stared at the wall quickly, feeling tears pool behind her eyes.

"Jal?"

Cassie waited for a reply but found that Jal was ignoring her.

"Sid said that you got rid of it."

"How did Sid know?" asked Jal, avoiding the real issue.

"Tony told him."

"Tony knew?"

"Michelle told him before the funeral."

"I can't believe she fucking told him."

Cassie cocked her head and focussed on Jal's face. It was screwed up and it seemed like Jal had done too much worrying in too short a space of time.

"You were right you know, Cass."

"What?"

"Back in March, before I got...like this," Jal looked right into Cassie's eyes, "you said it was my turn to get hurt."

xxx

Jal stroked the side of the wooden cross; she hadn't plucked up the courage (or nerve) to ask Graham about a gravestone yet. He'd been buried next to his brother, and Jal was leaning against Peter's gravestone like Chris did a year ago. But there wasn't anyone there to hold her hand like she had held his. Oddly, Jal felt calmer when she came to the cemetery. That was the only reason why she bothered travelling back to Bristol. She was paranoid when she returned in case someone who knew her appeared and sussed her out, but so far Jal had been lucky.

She was so absorbed in her grief that Jal could often feel Chris's breath on the back of her neck, making her skin tingle. Jal imagined his arms around her, hugging her tightly like when they hid inside his duvet covers. She thought how pleased he would have been if he knew she had kept the baby, but then she thought of how upset he was when she told him that she wanted to abort and how he must of thought of her when he died. Jal had convinced herself that it was literally the final nail in the coffin, that he believed that she didn't think he was good enough to be a dad.

"I couldn't do it, Chris. I tried to get rid of it, but every time I went near that hospital I just kind of froze. All I could think about was the last time I was there, when, well, you know..."

She saw his bright eyes staring back at her, drinking in her saddened face.

"I felt so bad, lying to _everyone_. I told them I got rid of it. I don't know why. I still feel bad now, actually."

"Fuck it, babe. What have you got to feel bad about? No-one's hurt, it's not fucking raining for once AND it's nearly Christmas. Now how can something with Chris in it be shit?"

"Nothing with Chris in it could be shit, Chris," Jal giggled, rolling her eyes, "but it might be pretty shit without Chris."

Chris glanced at her tummy and poked it gently, "I'll be there, don't worry."

Jal grinned back at him, and Chris stroked her cheek, studying her face.

"Nothing with Jal in it could be shit anyway, Jalapeno."

"Even clarinet recitals?"

Chris bobbed his head from side to side, as if weighing up his options, "Errr, yeah. Even clarinet recitals."

Grinning, Jal traced the pockmarks on Chris's wrists with her finger, where they had stuck in the IV needles.

"You never said why you didn't tell me."

"I didn't want to make it real. I didn't want you to leave me."

"I never would have left you, Chris. But not telling anyone doesn't stop it from happening, it _couldn't _stop it from happening."

Chris stared into Jal's frustrated eyes, willing her to realise the importance and hypocrisy of what she'd just said.

"I think it's time to use your own advice yourself, Jalapeno," Chris smiled kindly at Jal, seeming more grown –up and wise than he had ever seemed before, "Not telling anyone about this little guy isn't stopping him from coming either, no matter how much you hide it."

Xxx

Jal sat with her knees up against her chest, the white itchy covers drawn around her. She stared straight ahead at the blank walls, drilling through them with her red, tired eyes.

"Jal?"

A straightened blonde head was peeking round the heavy safety door; tanned fingers gripping the metal handle.

"I'm coming in, okay? I've got someone else here too."

Jal turned her head and gazed vacantly at Maxxie, and at the curly-haired girl who followed him. She watched as her friends approached her cautiously, as if she was some fragile kid who could collapse any moment.

Maxxie felt guilty every time he looked at Jal. He felt like he wasn't around when he should have been, for months. He would have had no idea if she hadn't called him the previous night, so scared and panicky that this time he couldn't ignore her. When he had eventually found her, gasping with pain, he'd never heard Jal sound so scared and upset, even when Chris died. Still, Maxxie noted that when Jal got upset, she rarely let anyone see it. He knew that Jal probably felt much worse at the funeral than she let on, and he remembered guiltily how he didn't even find her to say goodbye properly on the night of the funeral.

Jal focussed on Maxxie's wrists. She couldn't bring herself to look into her friends' concerned faces. She could see sore red marks on his arms from her fingers digging into them earlier. Not wanting to remember the night before, Jal quickly turned her head towards her own hands, and began to pinch her own arms, seeing how much pain she could inflict on herself before her skin went numb.

Michelle was shocked to look at Jal. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and there was sweat glistening on her forehead. It seemed like Jal had grown up a lot too quickly but at the same time was behaving like a small temperamental child. Michelle stood at the foot of the bed, her hands jammed in her pockets.

Maxxie grabbed Jal's hands quickly to stop her from cutting herself with her sharp nails. Tiny beads of blood were beginning to appear underneath the surface of her soft skin, which had become red and raw.

"You've got to stop doing that, okay Jal? We're here now. For you."

Suddenly, a piercing cry came from the other side of the bed. Michelle hadn't even noticed the plastic cot next to Jal. She edged around the bed to peer into the cot, gasping at the tiny wriggling baby inside it. She looked at Jal, expecting her to react, to pick up the kid, but Jal was completely motionless. Desperate for attention, the baby kept on screaming loudly, getting more distressed as each second passed. Awkwardly, Michelle picked it up. As soon as she did, its whole body relaxed, its head flopping onto her elbow. The baby's eyes flickered open, gazing at Michelle in bewilderment. She walked round to Jal, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, willing her to look at her own child.

"Jal – look at him! His eyes are so blue, they're just like Chr-"

"All babies have got blue eyes."

"But they're so bright, Jal. Just look."

Michelle eased the baby into her friend's arms, propping up Jal's elbow for her because she was so scared Jal would actually allow her son to roll off the bed onto the cold, hard floor.

Jal blinked at the small red bundle in her arms. She stared as the baby gazed at her, his eyes shining bright blue despite his tanned skin and dark brown tufts of hair. Jal panicked as she realised just how right Michelle was about his eyes, and started to cry.

"You've got no idea what it's like, do you?"

"What?"

Michelle and Maxxie looked confusedly at eachother, anxious as to what Jal was referring to, and if she could cope holding the baby.

Jal turned her head towards Maxxie, her golden brown eyes boring into his pale blue ones.

"Do you love James, Max?"

"Erm...yeah," Maxxie grinned goofily at Jal, "I think I do actually."

"Then you know how much it hurts, don't you?"

"Hurts?"

"I love Chris so much it feels like my heart's swelling up. It feels like it's getting too big for my body, like it's trying to break out. And it keeps getting worse, every day. Every day I don't see him, or feel him next to me, I feel sick. When I breathe, it feels wrong. Like I shouldn't be breathing. Like I should be up there, or wherever dead people go, with him."

"Jal-"

"It's why I could forgive Sketch for what she did to you two."

"Sketch?"

Maxxie gripped Jal's arm gently and stroked the baby's long delicate fingers, which closed around his own tightly.

"Because I knew that she felt the same way about you."

Jal started to cry again, and Michelle leaned over to put her arms around her. She felt Jal's hot tears rolling down her arms, causing her to shiver and come out in goosebumps, and Jal's wet eyelashes flickering against her shoulder. The baby started to whimper in Jal's arms, sensing that there was something wrong.

"I'm so scared 'Chelle," Jal whispered into Michelle's shivering ear, "I don't know what to do. How am I meant to tell my dad? I don't know what I'm meant to do with _him_ anyway," Jal lifted the baby towards her shoulder, feeling him curl into her blades, "I don't know how to deal with all this."

"You've just got to love him, I guess. My mum said that's all babies really need apart from food, nappies and somewhere to sleep."

"I don't think I can love him."

Jal felt Maxxie's grip on her arm tighten, and she felt the bundle in her arms squirm, as if he could understand exactly what she'd just said.

"I'm too scared that I'll love him more than Chris."

xxx

Jal had been at home for three days. Maxxie and Michelle made her go back to Bristol on the train, and they'd come home with her because now it was the Christmas holidays. Anwar and Tony had come back for Christmas too; Sid and Cassie had been sloping around the area for weeks, going to all the places that the group used to hang out before their lives turned upside down. Sid had convinced Cassie to stay in Bristol and they had been living in his house with his mum.

Michelle, Maxxie, Anwar, Tony, Cassie, Sid and James sat squashed on the sofa in Jal's living room. Jal sat opposite them on the floor, the baby in front of her, lying on a folded duvet in a laundry basket (they had only had enough money to get nappies and milk formula when Jal was in hospital). Jal stared at the baby, her face confused and distorted with thought. Everyone else stared at Jal, switching from watching her to watching the baby. James led Maxxie out of the lounge and into the kitchen. There were old milk bottles strewn all over the worktops, with banana skins and empty packets of crisps piled up in the open bin.

"Are you okay, Max?"

"Yeah, I'm more worried about Jal, to be honest."

They leant their heads around the door frame and peeked into the lounge.

"I don't remember her being like this, even at the funeral."

"She's never been like this James. She's so...unresponsive. And then, when she does say anything, it's just completely weird. She comes out with this stuff that's been bottled up for months. It's like she hasn't moved on at all at uni. She hasn't got any friends there. We had to go to her room to get her stuff because there was no-one she knew to bring it for her. She refused to come home without her fucking clarinet."

James pulled Maxxie into a hug. He could feel his ribs through his t-shirt, moving quickly as he breathed.

"She's gonna get through this, okay? You did as much as you could. We've just got to be there for her now, and the kid."

A small grateful smile flickered across Maxxie's lips as he squeezed James' hand and followed him back into the lounge. Jal was still frozen on the floor, sat crossed-legged with her hands gripping her knees, her elbows drawn into her stomach. The baby was asleep but he was arching his back; Michelle could tell that soon he would wake up and demand attention from his mum, which of course he wouldn't get.

Michelle tried to attract Jal's attention by wiggling her eyebrows but she couldn't break Jal out of her vegetative state. Sighing, Michelle eventually broke the awkward silence in the room by speaking up.

"Jal?"

Jal glanced up at Michelle, who was startled by her friend's steely glare. Jal's eyes locked onto hers fiercely, daring her to comment on her behaviour.

"Erm...is your dad coming home today? Ace and Lynton?"

"Uh huh," Jal nodded slowly, her eyes drifting off Michelle's and onto her own fidgeting hands, "they're coming back tonight."

"Oh. From America?"

"Yup. I guess the shit will hit the fan."

The room fell awkwardly silent again and the only sound was of Anwar munching cheese and onion crisps loudly.

Jal felt tired and heavy but she kept staring straight at her friends. They began to blur until she could only see the outline of their heads against the wall. It unnerved them, sitting opposite her on the sofa. They couldn't distract her or stop her from staring at them. Sid tried to clear his throat to wake her up, but he ended up choking on one of Anwar's crisps and Tony had to whack him on the back, resulting in bits of crisp spraying everywhere. Still, Jal kept staring straight ahead, ignoring everyone around her. The baby started to squirm and whimper as he woke up. As he broke out into a cry, everyone in the room stared expectantly at Jal, but she didn't acknowledge it.

"Erm...Jal?"

Anwar spoke up, but shivered as Jal moved her head, trancelike, to focus on him.

"It's...well, it's just that, you're erm..."

"What, Anwar?"

"It's your erm...tits. They're sort of all-"

"My face is up here."

"Right. Well, it's just that you're sort of, well, erm..."

Anwar mouthed a word, and Jal couldn't tell what he was saying.

"Anwar, I haven't got super-sonic hearing. Just spit it out!"

Anwar had gone very red; he was running a hand through his hair and fiddling with his sleeve.

"You're erm...sort of-"

Jal glared at him, and turned to Tony.

"Tone, what the fuck is he on about?"

"You're experiencing lactation."

"What?"

"You're leaking, I'm afraid. Baby wants milk."

Tony raised his eyebrows, staring daringly right into Jal's panicky eyes. It seemed like he had finally returned completely to his pre-accident state. He laughed under his breath and Michelle hit him over the head with magazine. Jal, horrified, looked down at her chest and saw that Tony was right.

"Fuck! This hasn't happened before. 'Chelle, can't you feed it?"

"There's no formula left, Jal. You're going to have to feed _him_ yourself, okay? Everyone else has fed him now anyway. You're the only person who hasn't."

"I can't!"

"You can't ignore him forever. He's your own son, for fuck's sake."

Jal stared at Michelle, but she wouldn't flinch. Michelle just stayed where she was, her arms folded. Jal wasn't used to her being like this. Normally she was all dipsy would start talking about an email Tony had sent her or some fit guy she pulled in a bar when she was drunk. Jal hated how the tables had turned. She was not about to accept life advice from Michelle.

"Get out! Get out now, all of you! I don't want you to come back, okay? Just don't fucking bother. Go and have a fricking party upstairs or mess around in the...whatever."

They were all shocked at both Jal's sudden outburst and what was happening to her. They sat motionless, bewildered at her behaviour.

"Go! Are you all fucking deaf or something?"

Slowly, they all filed out of the room, embarrassed. Maxxie waited at the end to see if Jal would calm down but she just focussed on the baby, scared as hell. He stood in the doorframe whilst everyone else traipsed upstairs to Jal's bedroom.

"Close the door on your way out, Max."

Jal was left by herself with the baby. She stared at him squirming. He kept reaching up to her, wanting her to pick him up. He was helpless. Just like her.

She stroked his fingers awkwardly, marvelling at how small they were. Immediately he stopped crying and clasped his little hand around her finger. Suddenly she was aware that she had ignored her own son ever since he was born. She hadn't held him since Michelle had made her in the hospital. He opened his eyes and gazed at her, expecting to be cuddled and fed. Jal gasped at how blue his eyes were. She had expected them to gradually darken or change colour to become like hers, even though she had secretly hoped that he would inherit Chris's eyes. His skin had become darker like hers, and for the first time Jal fully acknowledged him as not only her son, but Chris's.

Cautiously, she picked him up, holding him at arm's length. His head flopped backwards, causing him to shriek and Jal, shocked, quickly cradled him in her arms, not realising she was doing it. Gingerly, she stroked his nose, his tiny eyelashes fluttering against the back of her hand. Soon, he started whimpering again. Jal didn't know what to do. She looked around the room, panicking because there wasn't anything around to entertain him. She started to hyperventilate, and the baby, sensing her discomfort, began to cry.

"Chill out Jalapeno! You're gonna give yourself a fucking heart-attack at this rate."

"I can't fucking cope with this. Shit, I wasn't even like this before any of my clarinet exams or recitals!"

"Hey, deep breaths! Keep going like this and your blood will get boiling and then eventually your head will blow off like fucking Mount Krakatoa. Did you know Krakatoa has a Volcanic Explosivity Index of six? That's the same as two-hundred tonnes of TMT. Fucking immense, eh?"

Jal gazed up at Chris confusedly, wondering where the hell he learnt that and why he was repeating it now.

"What the fuck are you on about? Do you know you come out with the most almighty shit sometimes?"

"Sure do Jalapeno," Chris grinned straight at her, "but you pucking love me for it!"

"Hmmm..."

Jal raised an eyebrow, moving the baby's hand away from her chest.

"Like father, like son, eh?"

Chris smiled, winking.

"What?"

"He's only got one thing on his mind. Tits. Namely yours."

"I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Go ahead then."

"Huh?"

"Gotta feed him one day. Promise I won't look!"

Jal sighed, realising that it was now or never. Uncomfortably, she slowly hoisted the baby up towards her, but before she realised, he was doing all the work. Jal sat on the floor for what seemed like hours, gazing down at the baby in her arms. She didn't want to believe that she was responsible for him; she knew that she would probably pin all her regrets regarding the past year on the baby. She wished that she hadn't freaked out on everyone, because she realised what she was most scared of was being alone with this kid. This time she couldn't just hand the child back to its mum, like when she had babysat for extra cash; from now on, this baby was going to get handed back to her. It wasn't until Jal heard a familiar voice behind her that she snapped back to reality.

"What the fuck is going on here, Jalander?"


	3. Overboard

**OVERBOARD**

"_What the fuck is going on here, Jalander?"_

Jal glanced up quickly to see her dad in the doorway. Ace and Lynton were peering from behind him, craning their necks to see what was happening. Upon actually catching sight of the scene, Jal in all her glory, they recoiled, embarrassed, and quickly retreated to the kitchen on their father's order.

"I come home to a dirty, messy house and find you with a fucking baby in my living room. This better not be what I think it is."

"Dad..."

Jal tried to detatch herself from the baby but he wouldn't let go.

"It's pretty obvious what's going on now, isn't it Jal? You stupid, _stupid_ girl."

"Look, I should have told you. And Ace and Lynton, but-"

"Of course you should have fucking told me, you idiot. What else have you been hiding? Are you on pills too, like all your silly druggie mates? Given up your music, everything you've worked for?"

"No! I just, I couldn't tell you about it, I don't know why. But when I said that I'd had the abortion, I meant it. I thought I was gonna get rid of him, I wanted to!"

"So why the hell not? What stopped you?"

"Because...because I couldn't." Jal looked her at her dad directly for the first time since the night before Chris's funeral. He was still the same, insensitive and angry, demanding to know what she had done to him this time. He honestly seemed to believe that everything that had happened was a punishment directed at him, and that she was the culprit of everything that had gone wrong. She stared straight into his eyes, willing him to understand how she felt: scared and anxious. "I went to the hospital, and everything just came flooding back. You came with me when I had to go and identify him. You remember how horrible it was. As if I could face going back."

"So what, you kept this a secret from everyone? For five months?"

"Yeah."

"I assumed you ended up in some alley somewhere, yeah? Having it?"

"Hospital. Maxxie was there."

"Well at least you were fucking careful then. Considerate when it's all about you, aren't you? You always have been like that. Selfish and stubborn."

"That's because it is all about me, Dad! This has nothing to do with you. It's only about me. No...it's about me and Chris."

Ronnie glared down at his daughter, shaking his head. He turned his attention to the baby in her arms and clenched his teeth as Jal tried to move him off of her.

"So you're going to look after it at uni, are you? Feed him bottles in-between recitals? Put him to bed between lectures? You've got no fucking idea, have you?"

Jal sighed, and stood up clumsily, lifting the baby to her shoulder.

"I don't know, alright? I don't know how I'm going to afford this. I don't even know if I can cope now."

"So he'll go up for adoption. I know a couple through business, they want a kid. They'll be able to give him a home. A proper home."

Jal closed her eyes as the baby grizzled against her, his warm head against the base of her neck.

"I don't think I can give him away," She opened her eyes and walked straight up to her father, looking down at his feet, too tired to continue trying to stare him out, "you know, I've ignored him completely for three days. Haven't even looked at him. But I can't let him go now."

"Why? Are you expecting me to pay for him all his life?" Ronnie took hold of Jal's chin violently and jerked it towards his face so she had to look at him. "Nanny, nursery, private schools, music lessons, food, baby equipment, bloody university? You are too young to be a mum. You're not even fucking nineteen yet for four months."

"I'm surprised you remember my birthday, to be honest."

"Give me one good reason why I should pay for him. One."

Jal blinked, tears prickling behind her eyes.

"Because he's the only thing I've got left."

"What the fuck are you on about?" He spat at her, Jal's whispers drowned out by his shouting, "You've got a whole future, a better future without a kid. Keeping him, all your hopes and dreams vanish. They fly out the window. You can't bugger off to Italy now or France for a concert. You can't go clubbing or go out with your mates at the weekend. Is that the life you want? A life withou-"

"He's the only thing I've got left of Chris."

Ronnie shook his head, jabbing his finger in the air at Jal.

"Forget him," Ronnie hissed violently, "This baby is not going to determine your life."

Jal rubbed her chin with her free hand, feeling the sore red friction burns where Ronnie had grabbed her, "Too late, Dad. Perhaps you should hire some hit men to finish me off now that I've ruined the family reputation."

"Don't you fucking talk to me about family. I have raised three kids by myself for ten years. How dare _you_ talk to me like that!"

"'Cause you did such a good job of it, didn't you? Two ghetto wannabes and a fucking teenage mum," Jal put the baby down back in the makeshift laundry basket cot, "you know what? That's why you're so angry. Because you're jealous. I would have given my life for Chris, and he would have given his for me, but you? You're alone. The mother of your own kids didn't like you enough to stick around."

"You don't understand what you're tal-"

"And then _you_ lied to _us_. That's the issue here, isn't it? You're so fucking bitter about your own failures that you can't even help your own kids with theirs. And you wonder why I couldn't tell you. You made me like this. No-one else. You."

Jal stormed past her dad into the kitchen, shutting the door, her dad and the crying baby behind her. Ace and Lynton were sitting at the table, listening to the argument in the next room. When she entered, they got up quickly, scraping their chairs noisily against the floor.

"Good entertainment?"

Ace raised his eyebrows at her, smirking at Lynton who was smiling back at Jal.

"Fink she put on a sick show, Lynt?"

"Well good, bruv."

Jal shook her head, sighing disdainfully at her brothers.

"Come here, sis."

Jal clutched her brothers to her, her hands digging into their backs. "You'll help me, won't you?" she whispered into their ears, not caring whether they heard or not, but just needing to ask. Ace and Lynton looked at eachother, seemingly having a silent conversation which only they could understand. "Course we will, sis," Lynton spoke back calmly, "it ain't just about you anymore, is it? We got our nephew to think about." Jal blinked, grateful tears running down her cheeks. "Hey," they held her back, letting her wipe her face clean, "don't look so happy yet. We gotta teach him about _real_ music. Can't have him listening to that prissy posh shit you like!"

Jal giggled, hitting Ace on the shoulder. Despite Jal's distaste of their rap music and frankly incorrect speech, and their mocking of her love of classical music, they had always stuck together. When their mum left, they had become closer: Jal soon became the one who made their breakfast in the morning before school every day; she was the person who helped them with their homework and their failed attempts at music lessons. Only she knew, that although they hated it, and wouldn't let anyone know, that Ace was actually very good at playing the piano and Lynton at playing classical guitar. And both of them could play a fucking good "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" duet on the recorder. Most importantly, Jal had only ever felt completely safe with them. Even with Chris, she had been scared that she would lose him at any moment after he first got ill.

Jal knew deep down, in the back of her mind that one of the reasons she couldn't get rid of the baby was the looks on their faces when she told them that she had. She could cope with them thinking badly of her when she hadn't done it, but the thought of them being justified in their reaction filled her with shame. She knew that she felt the worst about having not told them her secret because she knew all of theirs, even the ones that she _really_ rather wouldn't.

"I really am sorry, you know," she said softly, the words barely escaping her lips, "I should have trusted you; I just didn't want to have to."

Ace shook his head at her, elbowing Lynton to do the same, "Nah, Jal. Don't think about that. 'Cos right now I think we got someone to meet!" Ace sang the last words, rubbing his hands together.

"Lead the way bruv!" Lynton replied, "Time to meet the family..." He winked at Jal, daring her to hit him, but she just let them go. Guiltily, she thought that they loved the baby already more than she did. Or could. Jal was confused about whether she was stopping herself from loving her son or whether there was something wrong with her and she couldn't. Whatever reason it was, she felt terrible that the only thing she could feel for him was pity and bitterness, pity that he would never see his father or have a decent mother and bitterness because so far, he had ruined her life.

xxx

Jal ran up the stairs to her room, picking up everyone else's shoes on the way. She flung open the door and saw all of her friends sitting on her bed gazing back at her. Michelle and Tony, Cassie and Sid and James and Maxxie had obviously just broken away from eachother, a surly Anwar sitting in the middle of all of them munching crisps grumpily.

"Nice...glad to see you're, erm, acquainting yourself to eachother. On my bed."

"Well, we're sure your bed has seen worse, Jal."

Tony grinned at her, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Shut up, wanker."

"Well, what else are we meant to do whilst you practise your amateur dramatics? You know, Freud would have said-"

"I don't care what Freud the professional fuckwit would have said, Tony. And believe it or not, I'm not overly bothered about what you think anyway. This time last year, your cock wouldn't work, remember?"

Tony frowned whilst the rest of the group sniggered, grinning at Jal for thankfully shutting him up.

"Thank you Anthony. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to the club."

She dropped their shoes on the floor for them and went to her wardrobe, finding her sexiest outfit that would hide the remains of her belly. Ignoring Maxxie's protests, she flounced into her bathroom, locking the door behind her before any of them could get in. She pulled off her crumpled t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, slipping the dark green dress on. It revealed a fairly large amount of cleavage, making Jal frown as she realised that her bra was now far too tight. Looking at herself in the mirror, she noted that although her stomach wasn't exactly flat anymore, she had generally kept the rest of her figure. Finally, having applied rather a lot of make-up and having managed (after a _lot_ of effort) to make her hair presentable, she glanced down at herself, remembering sadly that the last time she'd worn this dress was on a date with Chris. She had bought it especially as they'd been going out for a month and were celebrating his success at work at a proper restaurant with his first bonus. The pair of them had eventually gotten so drunk on expensive French wine that they were 'politely asked to leave', which made them collapse into hysterics all over again. Soon they had ended up back in McDonald's for the usual shared Big Mac and extra fries because Chris hadn't enough money left to actually buy any food at the restaurant. It was then that she fell for him completely. Until that evening, there had always been a sneaking suspicion at the back of her mind that if Angie returned, he would immediately dump her. But that night her mind changed.

"_You've saved me, mon petit French fry," Chris had said in a truly terrible fake French accent, drunk as a donkey on absinthe, "I think I really fucking love you. Yeah. I do! My boooootiful Jal-Gal!" _

And then, he had planted a huge ketchup-smothered kiss on her cheek, his face alight with awe as if he'd just discovered a leprechaun and a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

"_I think I love you too, Chris."_

He blinked at her shocked, a wide smile crossing his lips. He took the burger away from Jal and kissed her properly, his messy hands smearing more ketchup on her face.

"_Hey, did you know you've got ketchup on your face?"_

xxx

Jal stood by the bar, downing her fourth tequila shot. She could feel the beat of the music vibrating in her ears, even though it was so loud she could barely hear what it actually sounded like. Jal closed her eyes, letting the remains of the alcohol drain down her throat. She frowned as she thought of how different it tasted now; before it relieved her, let her forget her problems and have fun, but not anymore. Now, its taste was nauseatingly metallic and the aftertaste even worse. Still, she forced herself to drink more, trying to convince herself it was only a matter of time before it went back to normal. Or until she got so drunk she couldn't taste it anyway.

The bar staff knew who she was, that her dad employed them, so they were letting her have everything for free. Jal imagined how high Chris would have gotten if his drug dealer let him have whatever he wanted for nothing. In fact, when they had gone to the club once when it was empty, he was like a little kid in a sweet shop looking at all the drinks, Jal with the bar key. It was the first time they had gotten staggeringly drunk, still racked with a killer hangover when they went back to school on Monday morning. And Jal's dad was furious, because they had drank half of the club's vodka supplies, right before a stag do was booked. So Jal and Chris were forced to stay at home grounded instead of going on the Year Nine overnight school trip to Thorpe Park. Everyone else had teased them for weeks because they'd been on all the best rollercoasters whilst Jal and Chris had only mopped up their own sick off her bedroom floor.

Jal smiled as she recalled memories of past house parties, drunken kisses and falling over in the street, so smashed that she couldn't even feel the cold rain pouring down her back and over her head. Knocking the contents of another glass down her throat, she made her way to the dance floor, determined to enjoy herself.

"_Where's your moves Jal?"_

Chris's voice echoed in her head. It had felt so good, for once being the centre of attention, feeling their eyes gawking at her. She had shown them. She could be just as sexy as Michelle, just as crazy as the rest of them. And since that night, she and Chris had begun to hang out more. They'd always been good friends before, but they saw eachother more often without the others, holding hands whilst he told her more about Peter and she told him about her fuck-up of a family. No one had ever listened to him before and no one had listened to her. So for both of them, it was about finding someone to trust. And, of course, to get completely shit-faced with.

Her mind flickered back to the present, and Jal found herself standing still in the middle of the crowded room with her eyes closed.

"You have really got to stop doing that, Jal," she whispered to herself, trying to regain her composure, "you look like a bloody lemon, standing there with your mouth open."

Jal shook her head, trying to shake thoughts of Chris and how fucked up her life was out of her mind. It wasn't long before she had gotten into the music, moving to the beat with some guy up against her, the pair of them drinking more and more until her mind had clouded over. She let herself forget that she wasn't meant to be here, that she never would have done this before, and allowed the boy to put his arms around her, his lips moving over her neck. But she wouldn't let him kiss her on the lips. Oh no. That was for when Chris came back. Because he was coming back, wasn't he?

xxx

It was ten o' clock in the morning, and Jal still wasn't back. Maxxie glanced up at Michelle again, Jal's dad sitting on the sofa between them, his knuckles cracking angrily in the silence. Anwar, Sid and Cassie were wandering round Bristol, having realised that Jal left the club before they had gone down to get her at midnight. The bar staff said that she was drunk and had left with a student, who had been claiming that he was going to give her, "the time of her life." Ronnie knew about the types of students who came to his bar, and he was not happy. Not happy at all.

Jal had missed out on her kid crying through the night as well. Crying loudly. No-one else had gotten any sleep, between looking for her and trying to shut him up. Ronnie sighed, frustrated, and stood up as the baby started to whimper again. He had found an old cot in the attic, and a car seat, reminders of a life when he thought that everything was going to turn out how he wanted it to. When he thought naively that he'd be with his wife forever, that they were happy and that the tiny little girl in his arms would be absolutely perfect, never getting into drugs or crime like he had, or fighting in the streets because she was too skint to do anything else. But that was when Ronnie was stupid. That was when he was so allured by the money and the perfect life, that when everyone else saw greed, jealousy and misery, he saw riches, opportunity and eventually, happiness.

Had he expected too much of Jal? He didn't know why she aggravated him, why he felt so annoyed when he saw her. Most people would kill to be able to say that their kid was a musical prodigy, that their kid went to the best music school in the country, that their kid was practically fucking Mozart. But not him. All he saw was what could be better. Jal could be quicker, cleverer, darker, skinnier, crazier, prettier, and more obedient; the list could go on forever! But she was never _right_. Not like she used to be. She wasn't the hyper toddler anymore, running round the lounge because she'd just seen the final of the Olympics eight hundred metres. She wasn't the laughing seven year old, chasing her brothers, threatening them with their mum's red lipstick. She wasn't even the kid who had made him so proud when she won her first music competition. All he saw now was a mess, a problem, a fuck-up. Not a scared teenager, his daughter, who needed help.

Then the crying of his grandson brought him out of his daydream. Shit. _Grandson_. People his age weren't meant to be grandparents. That was it. He couldn't let her keep him. How could they live with a baby anyway? There'd be no more partying, checking out new kids who wanted him to help them succeed in the music business. Fuck, there'd be no more women anymore! Ronnie could cope without a lot of things, he'd had to in the past, but one thing he could never handle was being alone.

xxx

Now it was past noon, and everyone was sitting awkwardly with Jal's dad and Ace and Lynton in the living room. They had resigned themselves to waiting for her now; they had spent too long looking. Maxxie hoped she would be back soon. They couldn't keep feeding the baby constantly, hoping he'd finally had enough. Surely Jal could tell that he needed her? Maxxie didn't want to believe she was doing this to them on purpose, leaving them all in the lurch, begging inwardly that she would come home. None of them had ever felt so useless or stupid. And they also felt guilty. Chris wouldn't have let Jal go out in her state, would he? Or maybe they should have hung around for longer after his funeral to check on her. But they had all gone away quickly, leaving Jal to go by herself to London, letting her hire her brothers' friends to get her stuff for her from her dad's house, because she wouldn't go back and she had no friends of her own around to do it for her. They hadn't even had a clue what was really going on with her. And Michelle felt even worse because she hadn't questioned Jal. She knew that Jal could never have an abortion like she'd said alone. Michelle had no doubt that she would have done it, especially with Chris gone and Jal having to become a single mum, but she never could believe that Jal wouldn't have been scared, wouldn't have needed someone to hold her hand.

Yet it was Cassie who felt terrible, more so than anyone else. Because Cassie knew that Jal thought it was her fault Chris died. She'd known that for three weeks now, and had tried to forget, but she couldn't. Her memory kept coming back to haunt her every time she saw Jal, or the kid or even the golden coin that she had kept for months. Now, Cassie had convinced herself that Chris's death really was completely down to her. She felt like how she imagined guilty murderers did, her only relief being when she was in Sid's arms. Sid was right, wasn't he? Sid could save her; Sid could stop her from hurting inside. Sid could even buy her ice creams and take her to Scotland to see Reuben and to dance jigs. But Sid couldn't bring Chris back. And now he couldn't even find Jal.

Cassie bit down on her lip, shivering in her flimsy nightdress. She fiddled with the plastic necklace she had laced round her neck, picking at the nylon string. She wanted Jal to come home, to hug Cassie and say that it was okay, that it wasn't her fault and that Chris was happy in the sky, like her grandma had done when Grandpa Harry died. It wasn't enough when Sid said it. Sid didn't understand. He didn't know what it was like to hate yourself, to even wonder why people wanted to be in the same room as you. It was how she felt before she tried to end everything last year. Even then, it was Jal who came to the rescue, who found her on the bench and rang the ambulance and lovely Sidney. And it was Jal who used to give her water when she fainted because Cassie hadn't eaten anything for days. And Jal always helped Cassie to revise for exams, even when it was a completely different subject to what Jal needed to learn. So Cassie hated herself completely for the first time because she had hurt Jal. Lovely Jal, who was so nice in lots of ways. Lovely Jal, who told Sidney off for not liking Cassie, and deep down Cassie thought that maybe Jal had shown Sidney how to love her and how much Michelle was not so lovely for him. Lovely Jal was so wonderful that she convinced Chris to let her stay with him in his flat, even though it was so obvious that all Jal wanted was for her and Chris to be alone. And Cassie had tried. She had been out dancing with lots of people to try and let Jal and Chris be lovely together. But now there was no Chris for lovely Jal and Jal was left with a tiny baby, who was as wonderful and cute as Reuben. But Jal couldn't see how lovely the little baby was. So Cassie blamed all of this on herself.

xxx

Jal was still missing by three thirty. The room was silent apart from the baby's grizzling. Nobody was brave enough to say anything; they just watched Ronnie pace up and down, his face twisted into a thoroughly unpleasant scowl. Ace and Lynton were suspicious. They knew that this person who had gone missing wasn't Jal. Their Jal wouldn't leave everyone in this situation, would she? She was normally sensible, wouldn't even miss a clarinet lesson unless it was completely unavoidable. They knew that something wasn't quite right about her when she hadn't followed them into the lounge to see the baby. They had always imagined that if Jal had ever had kids (although Ace and Lynton didn't think she would quite as early as she had), she'd be fiercely protective of them. They decided that something else must have happened when she was in that room with their dad.

Ace was holding the baby, Lynton sitting on the floor next to him, whose finger was tightly bound in his nephew's tiny fist. They'd dressed the baby in a "Do You!" baby-grow, having made one for a joke when they were sure that Jal wouldn't have an abortion. They were about to give it to Jal to try and cheer her up before Chris's funeral when they'd heard her yell at their dad that she had gotten rid of it. Since then, their dad had kind of forgotten their business ideas, especially since Jal had announced her pregnancy halfway through their pitch.

xxx

Five o' clock. The lounge was no longer quiet. At one side of the room, Michelle and Tony were unsuccessfully trying to calm the now screaming baby; opposite, Ace and Lynton were arguing with their dad, shouting at him because they supposed Jal's disappearance was due to him; Maxxie and James were repeatedly phoning Jal's mobile, but it was turned off; Cassie was dancing by herself to some Prokofiev which she had found in Jal's bedroom, oblivious to all of the chaos around her and the fact that people don't normally dance to 'Peter And The Wolf'; Sid was ringing hospitals to check Jal hadn't been brought in, shouting over the noise around him. In the kitchen, Anwar was attempting to make milk for the baby, having discovered that cow's milk only made him throw up. Eventually, he joined everyone else, and as Tony tried to force the bottle into the kid's mouth, the sound of someone's key turning in the lock could not be heard.

xxx

Jal staggered into the house, stifling her yawns as she sat down on the sofa between Tony (holding the crying baby) and Sid, who was now resigned to calling round people's houses to find out if they'd seen Jal in town. Her black mascara was smudged all over her face, and her hair had fashioned itself into clumps, sticking up in odd directions. She curled her legs under her, and began to fall asleep on Tony's shoulder, his arm in the perfect position for Jal's head to rest on.

"Oi, Jal. Your heels are digging into my arse!"

Sid shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, the room immediately silent. No-one had noticed her arrival until now.

"Shit. Jal!"

Jal moaned, not realising the chaos she had caused, just wanting to go to sleep.

"Puck off Sid. I'm trying to sleep."

Suddenly, Jal felt herself being hauled upwards, her dad gripping her dirty coat and forcing her to wake up.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"Out."

"Don't start that fucking charade again," Ronnie hissed at Jal violently, so close she could feel his hot breath on her face, "last time you were out, you got knocked up. Where have you been?"

Jal ignored Ronnie, pulling away herself away from him and jabbing her finger into his chest, hard, wanting to cause pain. Lots of pain.

"You don't get to fucking know."

"Oh yes I do. I want to know exactly where you've been, and who with."

"Won't."

"Don't behave like a fucking toddler now."

"Why not? You liked me when I was toddler, when I was easy to handle. Before I was a fucking 'big fat disappointment'."

No-one in the room knew where to look. They all stood there awkwardly, barely even breathing.

"Just tell me where you've been. This is ridiculous! Everyone has been looking for you all day and night. So for once, stop being so obstinate and spill it." He looked her up and down, sneering at the state of his daughter, "You're a fucking mess, just like your mother."

Ace and Lynton began to protest, but their words were drowned out by Jal's shouting.

"I went to the fucking registry office, okay?"

"For nineteen hours?"

"I needed to clear my head. Last time I checked, babies were meant to have names."

"You named him. In your state? You're fucking drunk!"

Jal wiped her dad's spit off her face, grimacing as he grabbed her arm, tightening his grip on her painfully.

"So then? What's the lovely bundle of joy called?" he demanded sarcastically, "I expect he's called Tchaikovsky or something ridiculous like that, hmm?"

"Jonah," Jal whispered, avoiding Ronnie's glare, "Jonah Christopher Miles."

"Jonah? You named him after my dad? My dad is fucking bastard."

"I didn't. Chris liked fish."

"Then why didn't you call him Nemo?"

Ronnie looked his daughter up and down as if he were disgusted, and pushed her out the way as he left the room; he gritted his teeth whilst hissing, "Get out of my fucking sight." Jal hit the wall loudly, her bones cracking against it. Immediately, she burst into tears, sinking to the floor with her back straight against the wall. No-one moved. Everyone knew that Jal had not gotten on with her dad since her mum had left, but not even Michelle had imagined that their fights were this bad, even if they had never ended with any violence before. Jal sat with her arms limp at her sides, her knees against her chest and her shoulders shaking as she cried. It was the first time they had seen her sob so openly in front of them without trying to hide it or walk away. Still, no-one could bring themselves to go over to her, not even Ace and Lynton. They could hear Ronnie in the kitchen, banging the cupboard doors and speaking angrily down the phone, his loud voice being the only sound above Jal's cries.

xxx

That evening, Jal, Michelle, Tony, Maxxie, James, Anwar, Cassie and Sid slept in Jal's bedroom. They'd never slept together before without it being at a party. Another first was Jal sleeping next to the cot. Before, she had refused to even sleep in the same room, let alone next to the baby. In the darkness, Michelle rolled over on her side so she faced Jal's back, just able to make out her silhouette. They were the only two in the room still awake, thankfully including the baby.

"I think Jonah's perfect, Jal."

Michelle listened to Jal breathing in and out, knowing that she probably wouldn't get a response.

"I'm glad you didn't call him Chris."

"I thought that everyone would expect me to. But I did, sort of. Middle name."

"Well, I think Jonah Christopher is just right."

"Do you think Chris would have liked it?"

"Yes. Although I think Chris would have been happy with Nemo too, so I don't know if it means anything to be honest."

Jal giggled, and Michelle hoped that maybe she was starting to get better. She waited for Jal to say something back, but after waiting for what seemed like ages, she gave up.

"I didn't want to call him Chris because then I would just keep waiting for him to turn into my Chris," Jal whispered into Michelle's ear, surprising her as she took her hand, "which is fucking stupid. Dad still expects me to turn into my aunt."

Michelle didn't understand what Jal was talking about, and expected she was confused, still suffering from a hangover and bewildered from the whole baby experience. So she asked the question that had been playing on everyone's minds since the evening.

"Why is he a Miles?"

"Because he's Chris's."

"He's yours too."

Jal rolled over, turning her back to Michelle and breaking her hand away. Sighing, Michelle rolled over too, and soon fell asleep on Tony's shoulder. Jal, however, stayed up, replaying Michelle's words over and over again in her head.

xxx

It was eight o' clock, and Jal was still trying to settle Jonah. Gradually, everyone else had left the room to sleep downstairs due to lack of sleep, although Michelle refused to leave and wouldn't let Tony go either. Jonah had been crying continuously since one in the morning, refusing to feed and without needing a nappy change. As sunlight began to creep into the room, Jonah suddenly went limp, his head falling back against Jal's hand. Surprised, Jal put Jonah back in his cot, but as she began to walk out her room, she caught herself in the mirror. On her shoulder, there wasn't drool as she had thought from Jonah, but a bright red smear of blood. Jal rushed back to the cot, and picked the baby up, noticing a small trail of blood dropping down his neck from his ear. She checked his nostrils, and seeing a slight crust of blood around his nose, began to panic.

"'Chelle!"

"Wha? Jal, he's just shut up. Come back to sleep..."

"He's bleeding! It's happening again - I'm going to lose him like Chris."

Michelle sat up straight away, hitting Tony on the head to get him up.

"Nips?"

"Don't call me Nips, Tone. And get Jal's dad. Now!"

Tony gazed confusedly at Michelle, moving slowly to a terrified Jal and then the motionless baby.

"Oh, shit."

--

to be continued...


	4. Cold Shoulder

**COLD SHOULDER**

This wasn't meant to happen. Not again. Lightening wasn't meant to strike twice, was it? Jal couldn't concentrate on anything. She just kept listening to the siren above her, firing out noise as if the world depended on it. Well, her world did. She couldn't bring herself to look at the woman next to her, bending over the tiny blood-stained body, squeezing her hand as if she knew what it felt like. No-one knew what this felt like. Jal frowned at the ceiling, staring through the metal and imagining what was going on up there.

"Very funny Chris," she whispered under her breath, "so much for Merry Christmas."

She cast her eyes downwards and accidentally caught sight of the motionless body in front of her. Jal could feel her eyes watering, and gasped as the tears ran down her face. It was the first time that she had cried for someone else in months. She hated being in ambulances. All of the fussing and noise and constant pleading to fix the patient terrified her. Last time, it was Cassie. And as normal, she had to sort out all of Cassie's shit for her. The time before that, it was Lynton, who had fallen out of a tree and knocked himself unconscious. Even though he had woken up within five minutes, he and Ace had insisted on calling an ambulance to make sure his 'bone marrow wasn't broken'. But this time, Jal was completely petrified. Every other time, she had things to distract her, things to do and this time, she had nothing. And today, Jal blamed herself for what had happened. Normally, there was someone else to blame or use as a scapegoat; when she found the blood dripping out of Jonah's ear and crusted around his nostrils, her immediate reaction was to hate herself.

Her dad had come with her in the ambulance. But he still wouldn't stay with her; he was sat in the front with the driver. It was easy for him there. He could ignore what was happening whilst she was stuck in all the action, being forced to look at her son dying. What the fuck had she done so wrong to deserve this?

xxx

They'd rushed Jonah into a private room, and said that she had to stay away for now. They said they were going to operate and were prepping him. Why was it taking so long? Surely by now it was okay to start, Jonah was tiny. How many drugs did he fucking need to knock him out? And her dad had disappeared, rattling off information to a nurse about family illnesses. And about Chris. She was partly grateful for that, though. There were only so many times Jal could explain everything without starting to cry. And then she would have to leave anyway. She hated people seeing her cry, which was why she had felt so embarrassed and awkward around her friends since yesterday afternoon. Besides, Jal felt ill: she knew that her mascara was still smudged down her face from her tears and that her pyjamas were bloodstained, reminding her of Jonah and Chris in case she forgot for one second. People were staring at her as well. Jal was paranoid it was because they knew it was her fault, that _everything _had always been her fault.

There would be more awkwardness when everyone else got here. They'd think it was all down to her too, because she didn't look after him properly, because she wasn't good enough. She shouldn't have gone out yesterday. She should have gone straight home after the club, to look after him, but she stayed out all night and all day. Jonah's illness was definitely her punishment.

Ronnie was coming back. The doctors were coming back too. And Jonah was being carted along on a tiny bed. He looked even more fragile than Chris had. Jal didn't think that could be possible, and she was just as scared this time as well. She was suffocating: there were doctors and nurses trying to speak to her, but all Jal could hear was buzzing. She could only think of how history was repeating itself, even though Jal had prayed silently so many times, willing the clock to turn back to how it used to be. Now she knew that you really did have to be careful what you wished for. Jal couldn't cope with having to go to another funeral, whether she felt as if she loved the deceased or not.

The doctor left, with Jonah and all the drugs, and suddenly she realised that her dad was standing right in front of her. And even though all she needed was him to support her, to comfort her (even if he lied through his teeth), he still looked disgraced and hateful.

"I'm going now," he spat into her face, "I got a call from Lynton; your mates will be here in half an hour."

Jal bit down on her lip, suppressing the anger that was building up inside her. She didn't know whether it was just her being tired and overreacting or whether she was justified, but whichever reason, her blood was boiling. She turned her head slowly, to look at him in the eye, but he was already walking away. Why the fuck was he doing this to her?

"What is your problem?" She shouted after him, "Why are you such an arsehole?"

He stopped suddenly, and turned around sharply, scaring Jal as he approached her angrily.

"Because I've been here before. I've waited in corridors like this too many times. I'm not doing this again."

"Not even for me? I've waited here too, and that didn't turn out well. I need you to stop arguing with me and being so fucking..." exasperated, Jal screamed, balling her fists, "Why can't you just be my dad?"

Ronnie sighed, rubbing his forehead. Jal glared up at him, demanding him to be helpful for once.

"Please. I don't know what to do. This wasn't meant to happen to me. Do you really think I want to be here?" She gulped down cold disinfectant-tainted air, knowing that she finally had to admit it, "I've got a dead boyfriend. A kid," she stammered, "And I'm waiting to find out whether he's dead or not too. Can't you just please forget about yourself for once and fucking love me?"

Ronnie stared at her, his eyes boring into hers.

"What makes you think I don't love you?"

"You hate me! Because I look like my mum. Because I'm not like your sister, even though you named me after her. And I don't understand all this fuss about your bloody dad. I haven't ever met him. Why do you hate us so much?"

"You don't understand."

"Fucking try me. I've had enough of it."

Ronnie hesitated, Jal glaring at him, the pair of them trying to stare each-other out.

"I don't hate you. I hate him. And you don't know what a fucking prick my dad is."

"So tell me. You never told me why mum left. You lied about where she was and why she never called. So stop it. Help me out! For fucking once."

"You should just focus on your kid. You got yourself into this situation, you get your fucking self out of it."

xxx

Cassie and Sid sat in the car, the windows rolled down even though it was cold and the wind was blowing rain into their faces. Cassie insisted on playing the _Peter and the Wolf_ CD again, humming along with it despite not knowing the notes. Anwar was squashed beneath Cassie, whose dancing caused her to keep whacking him with her hair and flailing arms. Sid shifted uncomfortably as Michelle kicked the back of his seat, a result of snogging Tony as if it were an Olympic sport. Beside them, Ace and Lynton had squeezed into the middle seat with the seatbelt stretched over them both. They were half drooling over Michelle, half trying to focus their thoughts seriously on Jal; James and Maxxie were squished against the car wall, Maxxie's face pressing against the glass. They were stuck in a humongous traffic jam, the rows of cars in front and behind them endless. Not being able to catch a glimpse of the massive car-wreck which was the cause of their queuing, people in surrounding cars were staring at them, marvelling at how ridiculous they looked.

"Shit 'Chelle, do you have to make those noises?" Sid groaned loudly at the back of the car, resting his elbow on the side of the steering wheel.

"Why, Sidney?" Tony answered, breaking away from his girlfriend, who kept trying to kiss him whilst he was talking, "Jealous? Thought you got over that anyway."

"I have," Sid blushed bright red, "but this is my dad's car. It's a bit, erm...weird. And it's putting me off the road."

"The road isn't moving. So I think I'll just enjoy myself thanks."

Tony resumed sucking face with Michelle, and Sid was left again with watching the flickering lamp-posts for entertainment.

"Got any food Sid?"

Anwar nudged his with his right arm (the only part of Anwar's body that wasn't trapped beneath Cassie), making Sid's arm slip to trigger the horn. The noise only brought more attention towards them, and Sid wasn't sure that it was necessarily a good thing.

"Shit!"

"Sorry. But have you got any?"

"Erm, yeah. One mo."

Sid reached under his seat and pulled out a dust covered, half-eaten Mars Bar. He handed it to Anwar, who dusted it off and began to chew on the squashed, misshaped chocolate.

"It's a bit off mate. Urggh, there's a spider at the bottom! S'not halal anymore."

"That's disgusting An! I think I'm going to be sick."

Maxxie's muffled speech bounced off the window, and he carefully peeled himself away from the frosty glass. He turned around to frown at Michelle and Tony, and even though he couldn't see them through Ace and Lynton, he could definitely hear them.

"Will you fucking stop it? We're meant to be trying to help Jal."

Everyone in the car shut up, awkward now that the subject they'd all been trying to avoid had surfaced. Michelle shifted back round on top of Tony, wiping her mouth guiltily.

"Yeah," she gestured towards Ace and Lynton beside her, "sorry, guys."

They shrugged and an awkward silence clouded the car as the _Peter and the Wolf_ CD finished.

"Thanks Maxxie," Tony scowled, "way to ruin the fucking mood."

xxx

It had only been hours, but it felt like she had been there for days. Jal was sitting on the plastic red chair again, her fingers fidgeting exactly the same way as they had done when Chris was ill. But this time, her dad was there, even if he was at the other end of the corridor, ignoring her. Her friends had returned home instead of sitting in some traffic jam; they'd called apologetically, but Jal still wished that she could be them, instead of being stuck here with only leaflets and sickeningly over-sympathetic nurses. The heavy doors opposite Jal suddenly swung open, and she felt herself jump to her feet, not only out of fear or worry, but force of habit. She stared at the surgeon in his blue scrubs, pleading him to have good news for once. Jal sensed that he was keeping something from her, because he wouldn't look her in the eye. The other doctor hadn't looked at her directly when he had to confirm that Chris was dead, so she came to trust this sign as a bad omen.

"The operation didn't go fantastically, Miss Fazer. Jonah's in a critical condition right now, but we're going to keep a close eye on him."

"Is he going to be better? Please?"

He looked her back, straight in the eye this time, and Jal knew that he was telling her the truth. He wasn't going to lead her along now; they both knew exactly how this could turn out.

"I'm sorry, but I can't promise anything."

He nodded at Jal, and at Ronnie who was standing behind her. As he walked off, Jal spun round, hitting her dad's chest, wanting all her anger and pain to transfer onto him. He had no idea what this felt like, even if he kept insisting that he'd been through it before too many times.

"Why can't you make him better Dad? Why are you so fucking useless?"

Jal kept thumping him, but Ronnie stood there motionless, holding her hands away from him when she kept trying to punch him. Jal started to cry, her hands falling at her side, and unexpectedly Ronnie drew her into a hug, enveloping her inside his arms. They stood in the corridor, Jal sobbing into his shoulder, Ronnie pulling her to him.

"It's going to be okay, Jal."

"Promise?"

"You know I can't."

"I don't understand why this is happening to me."

Ronnie sighed, holding his daughter's head to his chest, Jal's tears soaking through his shirt.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because you're my kid."

"That never mattered to you before."

Jal heard Ronnie breathe in sharply, and his grip around her loosened.

"Maybe you should go and wait in the other room for Jo...your kid."

"His name is Jonah. Okay? And no. I don't think I'm ready to see him yet anyway."

Ronnie frowned at her, and stepped away from Jal, studying her behaviour and appearance. Her mood was jumping around erratically. He liked it when she smiled at him genuinely, but she didn't smile at him anymore. He hadn't seen her smile like that at him for years and at anybody else for months. Well, since Chris. Surely it was natural, right? She'd been through a lot. It was okay for her to be broken and vulnerable one minute and furiously defensive the next. And he didn't have to listen to her insults. He'd had worse. Much worse. Even though she had named this kid after someone he hated, Ronnie was going to have to face up to it eventually. If she'd already registered it, it wasn't like he could make her change his name anyway.

"Fine. Jonah."

"Thanks," Jal glanced up at her dad, scowling at the way he spat the baby's name out as if it was venomous, "I really didn't name him after your father," she whispered, "Don't hate me...or him, please."

Ronnie stared at Jal, drinking in her tear-stained face and the blood on her crumpled, dirty pyjamas. He hadn't seen someone look so anxious and exhausted for a very long time. "Everyone was wrong when they said you looked like your mum, you know," Ronnie let his eyes meet hers, and he couldn't stop himself from blurting it out, even though he hated doing so, "you look like my sister. The spit of her."

"What?" Jal's brow furrowed in curiosity and confusion, her fingers frozen over the mark of blood on her shoulder which she had been tracing guiltily for hours.

"My little sister, Jalander. You're her. It's so confusing, you look more like her everyday."

"Why haven't I met her then?" Jal demanded, not knowing quite how to react. She knew that he had always measured her up to his sister, but she never knew why. Her dad never seemed to be honest with her, apart from telling her that she had fucked both their lives up.

"She's dead."

Jal sank down into one of the hospital's uncomfortable plastic chairs, ignoring the pain as her head banged against the cold wall behind her, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Irritation flashed through Ronnie's mind. It was too late now. He was going to have to tell her the whole story now, and to Ace and Lynton. Ronnie hated talking about his feelings and all that sensitive crap, especially with his kids. It was easier to lock everything away than to have people pitying you constantly.

"I was meant to look after her. My little sister. I can't tell my own kids that I couldn't...you'd think I wasn't good enough for you."

Jal focussed on the poster opposite her, adamant that she wouldn't comfort him, because he wouldn't help her, "What happened to her?"

"Jal was kind and pretty, but she wasn't thick and she thought too much. She got depressed when our mum died, always thinking everything over again and again, dwelling on the past; when I was sixteen, she tried to kill herself by slitting her wrists." Ronnie sat down next to her, but Jal couldn't force herself to touch him. Jal felt like if she did, then she would have to worry about this too. Ronnie lowered his voice, spitting out the words like bullets, "So we didn't talk about it ever, but I never forgot. My way of not forgetting was: drugs; parties; music; going out every night. And one night, Dad had his mates round when I was gone; they used to tease us all the time, saying we were idiots, had no future. And he let them. In fact, he liked joining in sometimes. It was fucking stupid because they were all a bunch of fat ugly pigs. So," Ronnie paused, preparing himself to explain the rest, sensing Jal's discomfort as well as his own, "that evening, they left these huge industrial boxes of aspirin on the kitchen table so my dad could flog them. He's an alkie. He was too drunk to notice them there and that she was taking eighty pills at once, with the vodka he had saved for the next day. He was knocked out unconscious when she died. He couldn't even get help when he woke because he was so wasted he could barely fucking stand up, let alone find someone." Ronnie turned round to face Jal, his eyes screwed up in the hospital corridor's bright lights. "Every time I look at you, I remember it all again. It's worse now because you've messed up too. You've ruined everything I did to stop it happening again. You were meant to be perfect. The Jalander that she was supposed to be."

--

To be continued...


	5. Cheating Life

**CHEATING LIFE**

Jal sat silently as the words rang in her ears, shocked as her dad told her about her aunt. She could feel anger rising in her head now, not sympathy.

"I think I need you to go."

"Jal, this isn't my fault. You understand now. Everything went shit when she died, and I was only trying to bring her back with you. You'd bring Chris back if you could."

"And that's your excuse for being a complete bastard?" Jal whispered under her breath. The words hung in the air, her disgust obvious to Ronnie, "You let me think that I wasn't good enough, that Mum left because we weren't good enough, and then that you hated me because I reminded you of her. And the whole time you were sulking." Jal moved away from Ronnie into the next seat, not wanting to have to feel or look at him, "Fuck! You named me after your sister so you could make yourself feel better."

"You don't know how hard life was then. I had to wait in hospitals just like this so many times for her." He paused, grabbing her hand and jerking her towards him, "And it was my dad's fault she died. Not mine. And you named your kid after him!"

"No I didn't!" Jal stood up, breaking her hand away and turning to face her dad properly, tears glistening in her eyes, "How could I when I didn't know anything about him anyway? And you don't know what a hard life is anymore. D'you want to know who's got a fucking hard life right now? Me."

Ronnie stood up straight opposite Jal, looking into directly into her eyes. He didn't let anyone speak down to him.

"Maybe I was wrong," he snarled, determined to get the last word in, "maybe you are more like your mother."

Jal and Ronnie stood sulkily opposite each-other. What once would have been a compliment was now the dirtiest insult. Jal shut her eyes to block him out, only just managing to hold herself back from causing grievous bodily harm.

"Go. I have to find Jonah."

Ronnie hesitated, as if he were about to apologise, his hands twitching like he was stopping himself from reaching out for Jal.

"Now!" Jal spoke through gritted teeth as her eyes flew open furiously, "are you fucking deaf?"

Jal turned her back swiftly to her dad and began to walk quickly down the corridor towards the ward, breaking into a run as she began to sob. She ignored the nurses and bystanders who tried to stop her, pushing them out of the way as she rushed back through the corridors.

But Jal ran straight past the Intensive Care ward and the children's ward. She kept running until she had reached the other end of the building. So then she began to run up and down the stairs. Jal kept running even though she could barely breathe and had practically fasted for the past three days. But somehow, she felt better. She'd run away emotionally, shutting herself away from everyone else in guilt and self pity but she hadn't ever actually _ran_. Jal ran as if her life depended on it, like she was being chased by an angry mob who wanted to burn her at the stake. In fact, it was as if her angry mob, all of her problems and fears and worries, couldn't catch up with her. Jal had run out of tears long ago, and now she could think clearly. She finally stopped halfway down the fifth flight of steps, her body screaming with pain and exhaustion, her stomach heaving. She stumbled down the last few steps to the nearest doorway, bending over the railings because her head seemed too light for her body and her lungs too big. Jal stared up at the clouds out of the window, waiting to return to normality, or at least her current reality. She squinted as the sun emerged from behind one grey cloud, illuminating the murky puddles and cheap Christmas decorations around the hospital below.

She couldn't put it off any longer. It was time now. Time to say hello, or goodbye, whatever was meant to happen. But this time she was going to put up a fight, this time the right thing was going to happen to her baby, and if it didn't, at least then her two boys would be together. It was a romantic idea, a stupid one, Jal knew, but it still helped. She'd never believed in G-d or religion until Chris. He had rubbed off on her a bit, he must have, or else she wouldn't have named her kid after a bloody prophet who spent three days inside a fish. It almost made her feel a bit like there was still a little bit of Chris left.

Jal took a deep breath and yanked open the door. It was the right floor; she could see some of the doctors who had operated on Jonah rushing through the wards. Her breath caught in her throat. She was too scared. Jal wasn't sure if she had ever been so scared before. She was moving though. One foot in front of the other. It was all she could think about. The next step. But soon her steps ran out. Jal froze in front of the door. It had his name on it. They'd put him in a private room. That wasn't good was it?

Her fingers trembled as she gripped the cold metal handle, and her whole body shook as she opened the heavy wooden door. She edged her head around the door, not daring to breathe, as if it would snatch air away from Jonah. She could barely see him as she entered the room – he was completely covered with wires: a tiny doll in the middle of a huge plastic box, hundreds of drugs and medicines pumping through his body. His skin seemed almost see-through and Jal could see the minuscule blue veins drawn across his pale eyelids standing out.

She gasped as the nurse beside him stepped away and revealed more machinery behind her. She turned around, and walking away from Jonah, gestured to Jal to come over. Jal braced herself. Surely by now she was over this fear, she could cope?

Jal steadied herself as she approached Jonah, her eyes sticking on the drips and drugs just a second too long. She breathed in sharply and stopped suddenly by the plastic box, hesitating to rest her hand on the smooth transparent surface.

"He's been missing you. Had a bit of angst earlier."

"He woke up?" Jal whispered to the nurse, who was now checking details on a clipboard, "But I wasn't here."

"It's okay. Jonah's gone back to sleep now. He needs the rest, he's been in the wars."

"But I was supposed to be here. I..I..I was there when Chris woke up!"

Jal could feel herself becoming hysterical. She didn't want to care this much. Or maybe she did, but Jal was too confused to work it out. She hated the way the nurses knew who Chris was, knew their story, and that they pitied her because she was too young or unfortunate. It made her want to run away again and leave this life that she didn't want behind. But she also wanted to be able to say that she hadn't failed, that she was around when she was supposed to be. She wanted to prove to her dad, to Michelle, to Maxxie, to Ace, Lynton and everyone else that she could do this. Most of all, she wanted to prove to Chris though. She wasn't good enough last time, wasn't assertive enough or decisive enough. Jal wanted Chris to be proud of her and proud of Jonah. And Jal wanted to be proud of Jonah too, wanted to be better for him.

The nurse laid her warm hand on Jal's back, trying to make her feel better.

"Shh! It really is alright, okay?"

Jal trembled, not used to reassurance after the past few hours. Her fingers traced the edges of the cot; it was the only thing she could think of to do to stop them from shaking. Jal gulped down air, determined not to let her tears fall again.

"Do you want to hold his hand?"

She turned to the nurse, and found herself nodding, not realising that she actually wanted to. The nurse reached in front of her and opened a small flap near Jonah's tiny right palm. Carefully, Jal reached inside and stroked his skin, scared that she would make something go wrong. It was like Chris all over again.

Xxx

"It must be really fucked up having a dead man's baby."

Cassie gulped down the last of the vodka, oblivious to everyone's stares.

"Shit, Cass, you can't say that."

Michelle glared at Cassie, swiping the bottle off her friend and sticking it with the other empty ones by the sofa. Sid and Tony sidled out the room to join the others in the frosty moonlit garden, not wanting to be around in case Michelle spontaneously combusted.

"Oh...wow."

"Yeah, fucking 'wow'. This is Jal we're talking about, not just anyone."

"It must be weird though. No-one to hold your hand or give you hugs."

They sat awkwardly in silence for a while, embarrassed with each-other. They listened to the sound of the boys talking through the open window, overhearing their debate on whether it was better to have a girlfriend with a nice personality (including tits, obviously) or one who was just generally a good shag. They finally concluded, Maxxie and James agreeing, to go for the better shag.

"Do you think Jal will make him go away?" Cassie spoke up suddenly, her blue eyes filled with anxiety.

"Jonah?"

Cassie nodded her head, the sparkly hairclips reflecting the tiny glimmer of light left in the room.

"I don't know. I'm not sure if Jal could really imagine life without him now..." Michelle's voice trailed off into the dimness and she pulled the blanket around her and Cassie's shoulders tighter. Cassie opened the next bottle of vodka, not bothering to ask Michelle if it was okay before pouring it all over the carpet.

"We couldn't imagine life without Chris though either."

xxx

Jal stayed in the hospital room all night. A cold, hard plastic chair was brought for her eventually and Jal sat frozen next to Jonah as if both their lives depended on it. She couldn't sleep or move and refused offers of food. She felt too nervous for that anyway; Jal felt constantly on edge.

Michelle came in the morning, and Maxxie, James, Cassie, Sid, Tony, Anwar, Ace and Lynton. She didn't even notice that most of them were nursing hangovers, the faint buzzing of the machines boring into their sore heads causing them to grimace when they arrived. They tried to talk to her, making jokes and bringing food like when Chris was ill, but Jal didn't like to look at any of them because she was still embarrassed about crying in front of them before. She hated it when Chris saw her cry, let alone them – she saw it as a sign of weakness which made her someone who could be messed around. She'd never even got upset in front of Ace and Lynton when their mum left.

As the day went on and the headaches had begun to wear off more, Jal listened to her friends' conversation, tuning into their gossip about university, jobs and people they now knew. It took her mind away from herself until they started discussing what they would do when they got back after the Christmas holiday. Jal couldn't see beyond the next few hours, and anyway, she couldn't bring herself to think about what would be her future, or lack of it. But it got worse because they began to talk about Chris, what he would have been doing or what he would have done in the future. They agreed that he would have ended up working in some club getting high on pills; she disagreed silently, she knew he could do more with encouragement. He would have done whatever he wanted, and he would have been good at it, successful. Maxxie joked that he probably would have followed Jal around on her music tours, carrying her music stand for her, and for the first time, Jal smiled because she secretly liked the idea. But at the same time, she knew that if Jonah had still been born and had gotten ill, he'd just be with her now worrying and blaming himself, getting sick in the process. She kept listening though, amused by their judgements and experiences at uni, even if they sounded a lot more fun and less troubled than hers. It seemed like they were trying to get her to tell them about music college, but she wasn't going to reveal anything about it so far. It was too difficult, and she felt terrible when she thought about her dishonesty and failure to own up. Jal was also still convinced they blamed her for everything, for Chris's death, her secrets and Jonah's illness. She was worried they thought she wasn't good enough; if she had been, then Chris would have told her he wasn't well, wouldn't he?

Xxx

"_Ow!"_

_Jal cried out as he pinched her stomach with his fingers._

"_You're such a cry baby!"_

"_No I'm not. I don't cry."_

"_Oh really?"_

_Chris's huge blue eyes sparkled, and Jal knew he was daring her to defy him._

"_Don't you dare!"_

_Chris raised his hands mischievously and started to tickle her, a massive grin spreading across his face._

"_Crying yet?"_

_No!" Jal gasped, laughing so hard she could barely breathe, "I don't cry, remember?"_

_He rolled her over and inched his fingers under her top and up her stomach until they were just below her ribcage. Jal relaxed, sure that he had stopped now, but she was wrong. He darted down so that she could feel his eyelashes tickling her belly button, but instead of kisses, he blew a gigantic raspberry on her stomach._

"_Arghh! I can't believe you did that!"_

"_Are you crying though?"_

"_No! What are you, three?"_

_He blew another raspberry, this time pinning her down on the bed with his knees._

"_Crying yet, Fazer?"_

"_No!"_

_He blew more raspberries, five in a row until it tickled so badly Jal could do nothing but shriek with laughter._

"_Do you surrender?"_

"_Yes! Yeah, I surrender."_

_Jal rolled onto her side, pulling the cushion over her tummy so he couldn't attack her again. She wiped her eyes with his tie, hoping that he wouldn't notice due to his hysteria._

"_You're crying now, Jalapeno."_

_Jal glanced up at him, finally giving in and letting one drop roll down her cheek. _

"_Yes, fine, I'm crying now. But not properly!"_

"_Oh yes you are! Who'd have thought it? Jalander Fazer forced to tears by moi, the humble Christopher Miles!"_

_He grinned widely as if he'd broken a Guinness world record or won an Olympic Gold._

"_Dunno about humble."_

_Chris pouted, pushing his lips out so they nearly touched the tip if her nose. He swiped the pillow off of her and rested his hands on either side of her, leaning down so that Jal could feel his tie fall on her, brushing her collarbones._

"_Don't you want a bit of humble pie?"_

"_Depends what flavour, Christopher," she whispered into his excited face, stroking his bright pink tie, "Is it good for my health?"_

"_Oh, very good I imagine, Miss Fazer. It's never had any complaints before."_

"_Well, in that case..."_

_Jal let herself be pulled upwards towards him; his eyes focused on her, his breath skimming her cheeks. He lifted her chin and placed his lips on hers, his arms pushing her to him. He pulled her over to the other end of the sofa and Jal rested on top of Chris, fiddling with his hair between her fingers. She could feel him smiling underneath her lips, the corners of his mouth turning up, and she smiled too and they both lay on his sofa smiling at each-other, lips to lips. She liked it when he held her, as if there was no-one else in the world, no pills, no Angie, none of their friends. And for once, Cassie wasn't in the tiny flat and Chris was happy at work. _

_He'd sold lots of houses now, and every day he flogged one, he would buy her something with his bonus. And he would kiss her, saying that he'd sold the property because he imagined being with her in each room, and had sold his daydreams to the customers. Today it was earrings, giraffe-shaped earrings, and she loved them, not just because they were beautiful but because he thought she was. _

_Jal let him ease her top over her head, his eyes fixed surprisingly (for once) on her face. Averting her eyes from his, she undid Chris's tie gently and started to unbutton his shirt._

_The sun was starting to set, and soon they could barely see each-other without the natural light, now the lamp in Chris's flat was broken. But it didn't matter. They had all the time in the world to see one another and Chris liked listening to her breathe. It made him feel safe, like she wasn't going to leave him. It was times like this when he thought he could trust her with his secret, like when he'd told her about Peter. He reminded himself of that day every second. He couldn't believe he hadn't _seen_ her then, but still trusted Jal enough to tell her something he hadn't told anyone else. He had never taken anyone to Peter's grave before, and he was glad he had. Jal knew where to find him after a bad day and she always came at the right time. She would sit with him and listen while he talked to Peter, or about Peter, and he liked to think that maybe she understood what it was like to be him. Her mum had left her too. But each time he wondered about telling her his bigger secret, the one which could end everything, he caught his tongue. He didn't want to risk it. What if she left him because she wanted to leave him before he left her? So Chris kept it quiet, listening to her breaths, feeling her chest rise and fall, her bare skin against his. He liked thinking it was all his. So what if it was anti-feminist or some shit like that? Jal was amazing, and she was all fucking his._

_He leant over in the dark and kissed her cheek, his lips staying on her skin perhaps just a moment too long to be innocent. She liked the fact that she never stopped thinking about Chris, that she smiled when she saw his texts even though she hated being soppy, that every time she played her clarinet she played for him even though he wasn't there. She even liked keeping it secret from Michelle because Jal didn't want her fucking up this relationship like all of her ones. _

_Jal didn't want it to end. She didn't care if the world passed her by, or kept on going till there was nothing and nobody left. As long as everything here stayed the same..._

Xxx

Ace and Lynton entered the room nervously. It was Christmas Eve today, but no-one was in the mood for festivities anymore. It was already night-time, and still Jal hadn't left the room all day apart to go to the loo; she was finally asleep on the uncomfortable plastic chair, her chin resting on one of her hands whilst the other flopped over the edge of the cot. For the first time since they'd all come home she looked vaguely normal, and not quite the robot so unlike herself she had been playing; it seemed like sleep, or perhaps her dreams, were providing at least some relief.

Jal 's head jerked as she heard the door shut in front of her, her eyes squinting in the narrow strip of light. Ace and Lynton were standing opposite her, cringing as they realised they'd woken her.

"Shit! We were trying not to wake you."

"Doesn't matter," Jal replied to Ace, "there's no point pretending I'm in some dream anyway instead of here."

"If it takes your mind off all this..."

"No, it doesn't. I dream about this. Or at least how we got here."

Her brothers shifted uncomfortably as the main light flicked on and Jal felt her face redden, embarrassed that she'd told them what went on in her head. She turned away from them, and sat facing Jonah again, focussing on her blurred reflection in the scratched plastic. Her eyes caught Jonah waking and beginning to whimper, wanting to be held, but Jal couldn't do anything because he was stuck under all the wires. She frowned at the multitude of drugs surrounding him, prompting more memories of Chris, alive and dead.

"Dad wants you home tomorrow for Christmas," Lynton's voice echoed in the tiny room, "He says Mum's coming."

"I'm not coming. I hate Dad, and I'm not seeing Mum again."

"Please, sis. You've gotta come home some time, you're being stupid!"

"No," Jal sighed stubbornly, "Besides, I can't leave Jonah, can I?"

Lynton shut up then, and Ace approached Jonah's cot. It was the first time anyone had really looked at him; everyone was too scared, for both themselves and Jal, about coming back to reality. Even in the pale light of the hospital machines, it was easy to see how fragile he looked.

"He's tiny."

Jal looked up at Ace, studying his face, noting the purple bags under his eyes: he obviously hadn't slept any more than she had. She nodded to his comment, and opened the flap of the cot so she could touch Jonah's hand, and for the first time since before he became sick, his small hand curled around her finger. It wasn't a tight grip anymore, not nearly, but it made Jal hope that he was going to get better.

"It's going to be alright won't it, Ace?"

"I dunno, sis."

"I just need someone to tell me it's going to be alright."

"It will," Lynton stepped in, elbowing his less than tactful brother out of the way, "don't worry. But we know that this isn't going to be easy."

"Nobody said it would be this hard. I just want it to go back the way it used to be."

Ace and Lynton looked at each-other, confused to which 'used to be' Jal longed for: before Chris got ill (which meant she mightn't have had the baby) or before Jonah did. It was impossible to guess what she really wanted.

Jal didn't even know properly herself.

--

Thanks for reading and please review!!

P.S. Sorry for slightly ridiculous story arcs, i.e. Jal's "aunt". Got a little bored with all the crying...


	6. The Christmas Idiot

**THE CHRIS-TMAS IDIOT**

"Where the fuck is she?"

Maxxie stormed out of the hospital room, his confused face meeting four other astonished ones.

"She's gone."

Michelle pushed past Maxxie, and followed by Cassie and Sid, found an empty room: the plastic cot had gone; the wires had vanished; Jal and Jonah had disappeared.

"I thought Ace and Lynton were here last night," Michelle called to the others, beginning to search the small cold room as if Jal could be hiding in the corner, "They didn't say she was going home."

"Fuck it," said Cassie, "it's the Happy Holidays!"

"Merry Christmas!" Michelle scowled sarcastically, reaching for her phone to try and ring Jal, "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yeah, merry fucking Christmas," Sid mumbled grumpily kicking the floor, "What in fuck-dom are we meant to do now?"

Xxx

Anwar stumbled along the gravelly pathway, kicking one of the bigger pebbles down the clearing. It was the first Christmas Day when he hadn't wished that his mum and dad weren't so religious. This year, Anwar wasn't so bothered about the presents or the turkey (although there would be no complaints if a leg was offered to him).

It was the first time he had been back since he left for London. Even though he had come home several times, to see his family (and Sketch) he hadn't come here yet. It almost seemed like he shouldn't. Like it wasn't his place. He hadn't heard that anyone else had come to see Chris since they left, or even since the funeral at all. But today it felt right. It wasn't like anywhere else was open anyway, as they'd found out last year. Not even Jewish drug dealers.

Anwar stopped for a minute and crouched down under a withered bare tree, his thoughts swirling in his head. Shit. Why did he come anyway? He'd convinced himself that it would be okay, that visiting now would make up for not coming at all.

_Fuck it!_

Yes, fuck it. In fact, "fuck it" was the deciding factor.

Anwar hauled himself to his feet and ran down the hill, navigating his way through the unkempt grass and the rotting stones. It was freezing, and Anwar didn't have a coat and he bizarrely hadn't eaten or drunk anything this morning. Anwar ignored his stomach rumbling and kept on going, not stopping until he got to exactly the right place. But there was someone else there already.

"Jal?"

The black blanket- covered huddle shifted slightly, and Jal's cold red face peeked out from behind the thick fabric.

"Anwar?" She twisted around more on the damp grass, the mud squelching under her trainers, "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know really. Felt guilty. It's Christmas."

"Me too."

"Anyway, can' t have Christmas without Chris. It'd be pretty shit."

Jal laughed darkly, and Anwar was worried for a second that she really had gone over the edge, "That's what Chris said last week."

"Last week?"

"Chris said that he would be here."

Anwar frowned, his confusion deepening as he sat down awkwardly next to Jal and settled under the blanket next to her. Now he could see what was really going on: in Jal's arms was a small, tightly wrapped bundle, and out of the edges of the blankets he could see Jonah's tiny nose and eyelids peeking out. She was still wearing those blood-stained pyjamas; the ones which she had refused to take off because she felt too guilty. Jal hadn't stopped punishing herself for something she couldn't have possibly done.

"Jal?"

"Yes, Anwar?"

"You do know that Chris is gone?"

Jal was silent. It seemed to Anwar like she had chosen to ignore him, but she knew that he was right. She knew that Chris hadn't really spoken to her last week in the graveyard, but a part of her liked hanging on to this unsettled Jal who people seemed to care about again, who was unhinged and needed looking after. She didn't want everyone to bugger off again to their new lives, and leave her here, literally holding the baby. She didn't want to be left alone again.

Jal leaned on Anwar's shoulder, and he rested his head on top of hers. He found a bar of Cadbury's chocolate in his jeans pocket (which he only noticed because it was digging into his thigh – it was the first time he hadn't noticed available food straight away in his life) and they shared it out among the two of them, sucking on the warm brown squares to make it last longer and warm them up. The purple wrapper reflected the light off the sun onto the cross, bringing Anwar's attention back to the guy who was missing in their lives.

"I don't know what to say to him."

Jal stayed quiet as Anwar spoke, not giving an answer.

Anwar stared at the wooden cross. Still no gravestone. It seemed ridiculous that their best mate, (well, boyfriend and dad also, he noted thinking of Jal and the baby) was here without any more recognition than this. There was nothing to show how lively he was, how funny and what a laugh he had been. Or how much he had changed since he got together with Jal. Anwar was ashamed that he hadn't spent more time with Chris, alive or dead. And he felt bad that it wasn't until now, when Jal had hit rock bottom, that he made an effort to help her. Or even talk to her.

Anwar closed his eyes, and let his mind wander, fresh thoughts tripping over old ones and old ones over new. He could hear the wind blowing through the trees, the ugly branches creaking against it. He squeezed Jal's hand when he heard her beginning to talk, and for the first time in a while, Jal did not feel so completely alone.

Suddenly, she could see his blue eyes again, those eyes which were exactly the same as her baby's, the eyes which she couldn't bear not looking into every day.

"Said I'd be here, didn't I?"

Chris grinned, his smile spread across his face at Jal.

She smiled, and felt Anwar squeeze her hand again. He didn't realise Chris was here: he was stupid, her Chris was right under his nose.

"Christmas would be shit without you, Chris," she whispered.

Anwar was worried: he couldn't be sure if she was talking to him or to some figment of her imagination. He felt uneasy and shifted as Jal continued to mutter under her breath. Jonah began to whimper, his hands stirring against the blankets. She stroked his cheeks for a second to try and calm him, but as soon as she moved his eyes from Chris, he vanished.

"Fuck!"

"What...Jal? Are you allowed to swear around babies?"

She elbowed Anwar's in the stomach hard, angry that she'd been brought out of her day dream.

"Owww!" Anwar moaned, rubbing his sore belly, "Fucking psycho! I thought you were meant to be in the hospital anyway?"

Jal relaxed and slumped against him again, "They discharged him. Apparently he's made good progress. I didn't want to go after what happened with Chris, but they said he would be alright. And I don't want to go home. Not yet."

The three of them sat in the cold wind in front of the cross for half an hour, silent apart from the occasional sound of Jonah's crying, which Jal managed to shush easily each time. It seemed like maybe Jonah knew exactly where they were and who they were here for.

"You're good with him, you know Jal."

Jal's shoulders shook next to his, and it wasn't for a minute until Anwar worked out that she was crying next to him. He wasn't used to this, but he supposed that maybe Jal wasn't either.

"An?" Jal whispered, as if she was almost too embarrassed or scared to speak to him, "Do you think..."

Her voice trailed off, swallowed up by the harsh wind. Anwar waited for her to finish, but it was like for the first time ever, Jal had lost all her confidence.

"I know I'm not exactly the most sensitive guy on Earth, but... you can talk to me."

"Can I?"

Anwar glanced at Jal and as their eyes met, he nodded, gulping nervously.

They were silent again for a few minutes, and they watched Jonah stretching, his fingers bending over and then back out again over Jal's. His eyes were still blue, startlingly bright against his tan skin. Maybe Chris hadn't completely disappeared after all.

She could feel Jonah's soft dark brown hair against her arm and she watched his eyelashes fluttering as he opened and screwed up his eyes when the sun drifted out from behind the grey clouds. Jal peeked at Anwar again, smiling inwardly as she realised that despite her knowing him since Year Five at school when they clashed over the last plate of chips in the lunch hall, she didn't really know him that well. But perhaps he wasn't just the 'religious' one in the group who always made jokes about women or observations on who had the best figure or the nicest tits. Maybe she didn't give Anwar enough credit. Chris liked him enough after all. So she decided to take a chance. It wasn't even the sort of thing she had the courage to speak to Michelle about, apart from when she was incredibly drunk or high on pills.

"Do you think that Chris would hate me?"

Anwar stared at her incredulously, his bizarre expression exaggerated by the wind so that he looked truly impressive.

"What the fuck are you on about? He fucking worshipped the ground you walked on! He wouldn't even come on our lad's night out last year in May because he was planning to _tell you something_." Anwar pulled a face as if Chris had been a complete weirdo, "He was going on about making eggy bread or something. He even asked my mum if she could teach him the recipe. And we were gonna go on a proper pub crawl: drink, drugs and tits! Oh my G-d, Jal, the tits he missed out on!"

Jal giggled, her memories catching up with her.

"Thank you Anwar. Really."

"What for, you silly pillock?"

"I think I just needed to be held...wanker."

Anwar grinned, and brushed his finger over the last of Jal's tears which was still on her cheek.

"Looks like we're finally getting the old Jal back, eh?"

"Yeah..."

Jal sighed and smiled to herself as she hauled herself upwards as she thought of all the good times she'd had with her mates. Even after this whole disaster, they had all stuck up for her. And they stuck up for Tony when he was ill, and Chris. She was grateful that she had Anwar for now, even if he was going to go back to London without her or her without him.

They caught each-other's smiles, and saying goodbye to Chris, they defied the strong wind and battled their way back up the hill, Jal holding Jonah tightly to her whilst she remembered her words all those months ago at Chris's funeral and how true they really were. And this time, even if it wasn't to set a world record, it was her time to jump out of the hot air balloon.

Xxx

"_Are you going out with someone?"_

_Jal glanced at Michelle across the table, propping up her psychology books between them so Michelle couldn't see her face easily. Jal knew Michelle could work out when she was lying. Apparently she breathed too much. _

"_No."_

_Michelle rolled her eyes, pushing down the book so Jal couldn't hide anymore._

"_I'm not an idiot Jal. I can tell when you're shagging someone."_

"'_Chelle!"_

_Jal set the book up again, avoiding eye contact._

"_You're hiding from me; you're too scared to admit it! You are shagging someone!"_

"_No, I'm not!" Jal gritted her teeth, putting her pen behind her ear whilst she propped up the book for the third time, "I'm just trying to work."_

_The book collapsed, knocking all the sheets off the table as it fell: Jal jumped out of her seat to collect them, relieved to have something to do without being scrutinised by Michelle._

"_So, Jal. Are you fucking Tony or aren't you?"_

_Jal spluttered as she rose up from the floor with her homework, her face bright red with embarrassment and horror. Everyone in the library turned round to look at them as Michelle's accusation rang loudly throughout the room. It was as if Michelle thought severe embarrassment was an effective way to make her spill...in front of a dozen other people._

"_Fuck no, 'Chelle!" Jal snapped at her furiously, "What the hell gave you that idea?"_

_Michelle leaned forward, balancing on the edge of the table to try and reach Jal, who had edged further away from her angrily._

"_You've always fancied Tony. I know 'cause you were always so annoyed with him when we were together. You got even crosser at him than I did for all the shit he came up with. Anyway, Chris told me that you'd been crushing on him since he left school at Katie's house party on Saturday. And I thought that you would never like Chris – he's too thick for you anyway – so he must be covering for someone. And then I saw you talking to Tony and it was obvious. I think Sid agreed. Or at least he said he did." _

_Jal gawped at Michelle, her eyebrows raised in shock._

"_Er...no, 'Chelle. You've got this completely wrong."_

_She shook her head at Michelle, gathering up her stuff quickly, desperate to get away from her delusional friend and to Chris. She said she'd come to his flat after school anyway and she was already twenty minutes late because Michelle wanted company whilst she did her Spanish coursework and Jal couldn't get out of it with a credible excuse. _

"_Where are you going?"_

"_I've got to practise for a clarinet competition on Wednesday night."_

_Michelle grabbed her arm as she was turning to go, spinning Jal back to face her._

"_No you're not. It's Cassie's birthday party on Wednesday night and you've spent hours organising it with Chris because you're angry with me for not telling you about fucking Sid." _

_Jal blushed, cursing herself for being so bloody inadequate. Why was it that wanting to be with Chris made her into a complete airhead? _

"_Why are you blushing?" Michelle suddenly pulled a face as if she'd just figured out the answer to G-d, the Universe and Everything, "Oh my G-d, that's your secret! Chris and Cassie are together, aren't they?"_

"_Yeah, that's right." _

_Jal blushed again, this time at Michelle's inability to see what was right in front of her. At least she hadn't discovered the truth. But now Jal really had to go. She couldn't bear wasting another moment with Michelle's whining when she could be doing much better things with Chris. _

_She hesitated, searching for a foolproof excuse to leave, but then her mobile began to ring and buzz furiously on the table. She'd nearly forgotten it. Her eyes flew to it. She knew instantly who it was: Chris. _

_Michelle followed Jal's gaze and darted to pick it up before Jal could even move due to her heavy bag and the books in her arms._

_Jal watched nervously as Michelle read the text, and screwed up her eyes as she thought of all the ways Michelle was going to torture her for not telling her about Chris._

"_Fuck me!"_

_Michelle looked from Jal to the phone, dropping back into her seat as she read the text over and over again._

"_Why didn't you tell me you were helping Sketch with her psychology presentation? She tried to fucking poison me!"_

_Jal gasped inwardly with relief, her body finally relaxing. She gestured for Michelle to give her back her phone and as she dropped it into Jal's coat pocket for her, Michelle scowled._

"_I think you better get going then, Jal. Seems Sketch's not the only one who keeps secrets."_

"_No," Jal agreed, "she's not, remember?"_

_Jal turned swiftly on her heel, and began to run out of the school grounds, her happiness at getting away letting her forget the pain in her arms from carrying the heavy books._

_She saw Chris at the edge of the park. He'd worked it out and was waiting for her on the bench. As she approached him, she dropped her books and bag on the wooden seats and kissed Chris hard._

"_Fucking hell, you're energetic today, Jal!"_

"_Shut the fuck up."_

_Jal cupped his chin in her hand and pulled him towards her again, feeling his body draw closer to hers as he put his arms around her. _

_There was no-one around. Apart from Cassie, they were still secret. They were in their own secret little world and it couldn't be interrupted by anybody._

"_Oh my G-d!"_

_But now it could be interrupted. Michelle was standing fifteen metres away, gawping at them as if she'd just seen the Pope snogging Simon Cowell. _

"_Fuck it," Jal heard Chris whisper under his breath into her ear, "Barbie girl's just discovered a world outside plastic."_

_Jal couldn't help kissing him again now, laughing as she saw Michelle's reaction. She marvelled at how good it was to be the one in the steady relationship, for once without any complications. Jal was getting revenge. Pay back for years of watching (and hearing) Michelle and Tony shove each-other's tongues down their throats. _

_Revenge was definitely sweet, especially with Chris to help her do it._

Xxx

The doorbell rang, breaking the awkward silence in the dining room. Jal jumped up quickly, eager to escape the nervous tension over Christmas dinner. She rushed to the door, hoping that Michelle and Maxxie weren't angry now they'd found out that she's gone home without telling them. When Jal opened the door, it wasn't anyone she expected.

A short nervous looking man was standing on the doorstep, shielding his head from the cold rain. Shocked, Jal slammed the door in his face, spinning round and leaning back on the door.

"Shit!" Jal fumbled with the lock behind her, locking the door and then unlocking it again, "Oh, fuck."

Quickly, she opened the door again, sighing with relief when she saw he was still there.

"Sorry," she apologised nervously, "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"No," he agreed, "no, I didn't think you would. Would you mind if I came in? I've got something I want to give you...if that's okay?"

Jal nodded and led her visitor inside, walking into the dining room again as the front door slammed behind them.

Ronnie, Ace, Lynton and Donald were waiting for her round the table, the empty plates sitting in front of them like they were expecting her to clear them up for them.

"This is Graham," Jal gestured to the man, "he's Chris's dad."

Graham nodded at Ronnie, who just stared back icily at him as if the whole mess was his fault.

"Erm...right," Jal broke her father's glare, hoping to escape the room quickly, "we'll just go into the living room, okay?"

Graham obliged gladly, hurrying behind Jal to get away from the intimidating Ronnie quickly.

"Right, well, I'm glad to have met your dad."

"That makes one of us," Jal replied, sitting down on the sofa, "so, what did you need?"

Graham took the seat next to her, fiddling with his hands timidly.

"I was looking through some of Chris and Peter's things after the funeral, and..." He paused, expecting Jal to smile and sympathise with him but she just stared back blankly, "Anyway, I was going through the last box, and I found this. It's got your name on it."

Graham fished a small envelope out of his pocket. It was bent round the edges as if Chris had rolled it up in his hands, wondering whether to send it or not. The envelope weighed more than it should, and there was a bulge against Jal's name where he had written it.

"I didn't think Chris wrote letters." Jal said to herself, forgetting that Graham was next to her.

"He must have made an effort to write this one; there were loads of screwed up papers in the box."

"Did you read them?" Jal was suddenly scared that Chris had written something too personal, and she didn't want Graham knowing all their secrets.

"No! No, I erm, just left them. I can bring them over if you like?"

Jal shook her head, relieved, "No, it's okay. I'll just read..." her voice trailed off as she gestured to the letter. Her mouth had gone dry. She pleaded with Jonah not to wake up and cry, now that she had Graham here.

She sliced open the envelope carefully with her finger, and the letter slipped out into her hands. She unfolded it, her hands shaking, and began to read.

_Dear Jalapeno,_

_I'm not quite sure why I'm writing. I hate writing anyway, but I thought you obviously couldn't resist my charm if I did. And I didn't want to fuck it up like I usually do. Anyway, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not telling you about my idiot of a brain. I didn't want you to worry, and actually, I don't think I wanted me to worry either. So I want to thank you. For not fucking off like my mum, for coming with me when I go and see Peter, but most of all, for learning how to sort my balls out. Fuck, those bandages are weird. I want to get better for you. I never thought I would ever say this to anyone, but I want to be with you 'til I die, that's if you'll have me. 'Cause we'll be busy, I'm telling you. Forget the clarinet, I want a million Miles. That's right, a million. Well, maybe I'll settle for six. _

_That sound okay?_

_Love, Chris_

_P.s. I'm still waiting for that cheeky foot job..._

Jal could feel her eyes filling with tears and she scolded herself when one of her tears fell on the letter, soaking the paper beneath it through. She reached into the envelope again and found a small gold locket on a chain. She unlocked it tentatively and found a small picture of Chris inside. Just so she didn't forget her heart belonged to him. He'd written "Yeses are good" in the opposite frame, scrawled across a small piece of sheet music which had been ripped out of one of her clarinet workbooks. Jal's face crumpled and more tears ran down her cheeks.

"Shit! I wasn't going to cry anymore!"

Graham shifted uncomfortably, "I'm sorry, I...I shouldn't have come."

"No!" Jal held her arm out to stop him from leaving, "no, I'm not upset with you. Thank you for bringing me this."

Graham shrugged, smiling uncomfortably as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

"I just, well I haven't really got anything left of Chris, and I figured that you didn't either. I'm sorry I didn't bring it until now, but I wasn't sure if you'd even want to see me."

Jal stared at her lap for a minute, embarrassed that she hadn't told Graham yet about her own secret.

"I do have something left," Jal said quietly, too ashamed to look at Graham in the face, "someone."

"Someone?"

"You know after the funeral when you said, 'some people aren't meant to be parents?'"

Graham nodded slowly, his confusion obvious on his face.

"Well, sometimes even people who aren't meant to be parents become them."

"Wait a minute, are you telling me..."

"Follow me," Jal interrupted, blushing furiously. She hadn't thought about Graham and who he would be to Jonah, but now she had no choice.

She led Graham up the stairs to her bedroom and opened the door only a slight fraction so that she could see well enough where Jonah was. She stumbled nervously to the cradle her dad had found and lifted Jonah up carefully, rocking him as he began to wake up. She told Graham to turn on the light, revealing Jal holding her baby.

"Oh fuck...Is that your...Chris's...?"

Jal nodded, not confident enough to look him in the eye.

"Shit...I'm a _grandparent_?"

Jal nodded again, this time meeting his eyes, eyes which were also so brightly blue.

"He's called Jonah. He's nine days old."

"But...that means you were pregnant when Chris was ill. Did he know?"

"Yes. But he thought I was going to get rid of him. Chris didn't want me to. He said..."

Jal's voice faltered and the end of her sentence faded away.

"What? What did he say?"

"He said that he didn't want to fuck it up like you."

"Oh."

Graham walked over to Jal and glanced at Jonah, teetering over him as if he were a particularly amusing museum exhibition.

"I didn't tell anyone. They all thought I had gone through with the abortion. It was a bit of a surprise."

"Right."

"He's just come out of hospital. He...he haemorrhaged like Chris and Peter."

Graham took a step back as if he were afraid of passing on a bad gene, not as if it could be helped anyway.

"I think I better leave you to it, then. Downstairs, you better go downstairs. They'll be waiting for you."

"Right, thanks. Well, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Jal."

She watched as he left the room swiftly and heard the front door shut loudly downstairs. She sighed sadly, realising that she'd probably blown it with Graham. Oh well. One more person she had fallen out with over this couldn't make much of a difference.

Xxx

Jal sat on the edge of her bed, Jonah settled opposite her on the pillows. She could feel the gold locket against her skin, a new visible reminder of Chris which seemed to relieve some of the chaos and bitterness inside her. She stared at the rectangular leather box in front of her, not sure whether to flick open the silver clasps or not. But when she did, Jal laughed at herself; seeing her clarinet made her realise that she hadn't played it in nearly a fortnight, the longest she had ever gone without playing it.

Tentatively, she began to play, the music filling up her head as it flew into her ears. She loved the self-absorbed bubble she went into when she played: no-one could tell her she was stupid because she was the best; no-one could tell her to play something else because it was her music and they didn't know a thing about classical music – real music – anyway; most of all, she liked the feeling that she could control the notes. She couldn't control anything else in the world, but Jal could choose whether she wanted to play a low E or a high G, count in quavers or crotchets, or even play in a minor or major key. With music, she could manipulate her emotions, or express them. Her clarinet had got her through those first couple of months before Chris was ill when she found out she was pregnant and during his sickness. Playing was the only thing that kept her going through her tears when Chris died, when she lied to her family and friends about the baby and when she was hiding in London all by herself, desperate for the clock to turn back. And now, her music could get her through this. Fuck her dad. She could do this. She could. She'd make it work. For Chris, for Jonah, but most of all for herself.

Jal opened her eyes finally, the last few bars of Weber dancing through her fingers. It was weird now that it was this music, the music she'd played on one of the worst days of her life, was coming back to her now she felt so much better.

She'd woken Jonah.

Shit!

She was so obsessed with her music that she had forgotten that it wasn't only her who could hear it.

He was blinking, screwing up his small face as if he were about to blow up.

Desperately, Jal brought her lips to the clarinet again, and scrambled through her sheet music on her desk to try and find some of the old nursery rhymes that she played when she was little.

She found a nice arrangement of _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_. It was complicated, more intricate than she remembered. As the music drifted through the air, Jonah began to relax. Jal came to sit next to him, careful not to play too loud or close to his ears in case something went wrong with his head again.

As Jonah's eyes began to close, Jal slowed down the speed, fading out the notes to a calm silence when he finally fell asleep. Jal smiled as she studied his tiny body. She could imagine how much Chris would have loved him, how much he would have strived to be different from his own parents and Jal realised how much she didn't want to be like hers.

She knew what it felt like to be fucked up by a lousy mum. She knew what it felt like to always think that you were never good enough, despite how many exams you aced or competitions you won.

She couldn't let history repeat itself.

She had Jonah back for good now, and she wasn't going to let him go.

And somehow, _somehow_, she'd make it work. In fact, she'd fucking force it to work.

And it didn't matter how much it pissed off Ronnie. She knew she had Ace and Lynton, and they knew what she'd do to them if they abandoned her. Same to Donald. After all, they all came from Africa. She could hold that against him too.

And fuck it!

She would make a fucking good musician out of Jonah, whether he liked it or not.

"Fuck it" being the operative words.

Jal loved "Fuck it". She loved the boy who had said it, and she would forever.

And yeses were most definitely good.

Xxx

Cassie drummed her fingers on Sid's chest, her soft gold ringlets tickling his chin.

"I can hear your heart, Sidney," Cassie exclaimed, her ear pressed against his chest, "It's beating fast. Very fast...wow!"

Sid pushed his glasses up his nose, blushing as people walked past staring at them curiously.

"That's probably because we're lying in bed in the middle of John Lewis, Cass. People are looking at us."

Cassie giggled, tucking her arms under the blue sheets and kissing Sid's chest.

"I'll make your heart better. Not so nervous...Lovely!"

"Yes, lovely Cass. But I think maybe it's time we go..."

Sid sat up urgently as he saw two security guards approaching, knocking Cassie out of the bed: there was a loud thump and a high-pitched cry from beneath him.

"Shit."

Sid jumped out of the bed and hauled Cassie upwards, feeling her skeleton easily in her skinny arms. The touch of her sharp bones did make him feel slightly uneasy, but at least Cassie was eating properly again now. When he first found her in America after Chris died, all she would eat were red apples. And only one bite at a time. Two bites, and she would immediately force herself to throw up in the bathroom afterwards.

"Come on Cass!"

They ran towards the exit, pushing snooty shoppers out the way and slinking through the crowds so that they blended in with all the other people.

Fuck it. The guards were still following them.

Sid was so out of breath, he could barely breathe. Cassie was dancing in the rain, blissfully unaware that they'd just knocked over several old ladies and a little girl with crutches.

"I love Boxing Day Sidney!"

"Yeah," Sid gasped, "Boxing Day is fantastic."

Cassie was blissfully oblivious to his sarcasm and wandered off into the crowds, leaving Sid half dead on a bench in the centre of town.

"Shit. I've gone and fucking lost her."

Ten minutes later, Cassie appeared again, her arms full of baby-grows and cardigans.

"Did you nick those Cass?"

"I found them Sidney! "

"In the shop."

"Chris left them for me to give to Jal especially."

"Right..."

Cassie began spinning again in the rain again, her wet hair spraying cold water in Sid's face.

"Come on Cass, we better go before we get arrested."

They walked down the high street, Cassie singing at the top of her voice with Sid pushing her along the pavement, embarrassed. The tagged baby clothes were getting soaked and they were attracting a lot of attention from the shoppers, who were muttering disdainfully at their messy clothes and dishevelled appearance.

Cassie seemed to barely notice as they walked to the bus stop in the heavy rain, travelled out of town and ran to Jal's house, still singing the same 'Baby Love' song after twenty minutes.

The front door opened in front of them, and they heard the sound of Jal's clarinet drifting down the stairs.

"Merry Christmas!" Cassie grinned widely at Ronnie (whose left eyebrow had raised so high it was practically in space) whilst Sid blushed at her side, "I got Jal all these lovely presents!"

Xxx

_Chris's eyes fluttered open groggily, the effects of the drugs wearing off slowly._

"_Jal?"_

_She jumped up immediately, rushing over to his bed._

"_I'm here, Chris, alright? I'm here."_

_He began to move around, searching for her hands but the wires held him back, ripping into his skin. He cried out in pain and Jal hated herself for not being able to make him better._

"_Please, don't do that Chris. I've got you, okay?"_

_She grabbed his hand and kissed it and he stopped writhing around. He turned his head to her, groaning at how much it hurt and stared right into her eyes._

"_You won't leave me will you Jal?"_

"_No, course not. What would I do without you, you silly pillock?"_

"_Go off and blow Terry's French horn."_

_Jal laughed, surprised that he could even remember that after what he'd been through. She cupped his chin in her hand and leaned down to kiss him softly, whispering in his ear, "I promise you've got the only horn I'll blow, Monkey Man!"_

_Chris grinned at her wearily, kissing her back weakly. It upset Jal how unable he was to be, well, Chris. _

"_Any chance of that cheeky foot job then?"_

_Jal's smile froze. If he could remember what she said before the operation then they had a very difficult talk coming._

"_Chris? Do you remember what I said last night?"_

"_I remember this," He held up the gold plastic coin which he had been clutching in his right hand the whole time, "why, is there something important? Don't tell me you're going off with Posh Kenneth again!"_

_Jal hit him lightly on the shoulder, "No, I'm not going off with Posh Kenneth. That was only three weeks in the summer holidays."_

"_We've only been going out five months."_

"_I love you Chris. I'm not going anywhere, okay? And for your information, it's nearer six."_

_Jal put her hand on her stomach for a minute and felt something at the pit of her stomach move. Shit! Jal had to get this mess sorted...or did she? She wouldn't be going anywhere for another six months anyway if she didn't tell Chris soon._

"_What's wrong Jal?" He spoke to her nervously, picking up on her anxiety, "Don't tell me, you've just realised how out my league you are."_

"_No, I haven't! And I'm not."_

"_Are you fucking kidding me? You're clever, talented and you've got frankly fantastic tits. Actually, I swear they're getting bigger," Jal crossed her arms quickly, suddenly aware that the pregnancy was already changing her, "There ain't no sunshine when you're gone..."_

"_Chris!" Jal warned him, screwing up her face as he threatened to recite the lyrics to the whole song._

"_It's not warm when you're away!"_

_He opened his mouth to start singing at her and she did the only thing she could think of to shut him up. She swooped down over him and kissed his lips, willing him to shut up at once. He slipped his cold hand under her top and rested it over her belly button, and she felt the baby kick faintly for the first time. She didn't think this sort of thing would happen so soon. She stiffened, terrified that Chris had felt it too, but he didn't seem to notice anything. Jal reasoned that it must have been her imagination. She hoped that it was just her being far too stressed. Jal sighed out of relief and Chris jerked away, pulling a face._

"_Are you trying to give me mouth to mouth?"_

"_Just practising in case you decide to keel over on me again."_

_Chris's happiness seemed to fade away and Jal felt terrible._

"_You know I can't promise I'll still be here tomorrow Jalapeno?"_

_Jal squeezed his hand again and placed her finger over his lips._

"_Shh. Don't talk like that. Everything's going to be fine. You're going to get better and then we can spend the whole summer together. I've finished all my exams now, and we'll tidy up the flat so I can move my stuff in and look after you..."_

"_What about uni?"_

"_We'll talk about that when we get there."_

_Not that she could even go if she kept this kid anyway._

"_I love you Jalapeno."_

"_I love you too Chris," Jal answered, willing him to believe her even though it was now the only thing she was certain of at all, "and we'll be here forever, I promise."_

"_What, at the hospital? I hope not, you're a fucking sadist, babe. Have you seen what they've done to me?"_

_His eyes darted to the wires and drugs mischievously, pretending he was going to rip them all out. Jal swatted his fingers out of the way before he could do anything stupid._

"_No, not at the fucking hospital, you idiot! Are you completely incompetent at taking anything seriously?" _

_Chris pulled his cheekiest face, and Jal couldn't help but smile back._

"_Just about, babe, yeah."_

"_Well then, try to register this: I am going to look after you until you're better. But there are rules. No pills. No alcohol. No parties. Okay?"_

_Chris nodded his head like a small child who was being told off for eating too many sweets._

"_And in return, I'll do whatever you want."_

_Chris raised his eyebrows hopefully, and stroked the inside of her wrist with his finger, running it softly along her pulse. Jal rolled her eyes and laughed quietly at him, realising that Chris was definitely getting better already. _

"_No, Chris, not sexual favours."_

_Chris pouted and widened his eyes at Jal as if she had just told him vodka had been banished from the UK._

"_I'm going to spend all my time with you 'til you're better, so that includes cooking, right? And I'm not that bad – I've been doing it for years, feeding Ace and Lynton. Punishment for being the only female in my fuck-up of a family. Just because I've not got a fucking Y chromosome."_

"_I'm glad you've not got a Y chromosome Jal."_

_Chris was trying to get back into her good books._

"_So if you're extra good, then maybe we can have ice cream."_

_She tapped his nose playfully as if he were a little boy, teasing him with her sing-song voice._

"_Eggy bread?"_

"_You don't even like eggy bread, Chris."_

"_I like you."_

_She lay down next to him, manoeuvring her body between all the wires. He put his head on top of hers and they lay there in silence for half an hour, holding hands, the lucky coin pushed between their palms._

"_Sweet dreams, Chris." She whispered as his breathing slowed because he was drifting off to sleep._

"_They're always sweet with you Jalapeno. I got everything I need right here." _

Xxx


	7. Rhapsody In Blue

**RHAPSODY IN BLUE**

Jal put Jonah back in his cot as Cassie and Sid sat in her bedroom holding an assortment of (Jal suspected, stolen) baby clothes and three steaming mugs. It was the first time Jal had drunk coffee for a year. And it still wasn't any nicer.

Xxx

Jal screwed her face up as she gulped down the hot coffee, retching at the ridiculous amount of sugar in it. Everyone else was at the other end of the hall, right up near the stage dancing and screaming. Michelle and Sid seemed to be magnetically attached to each-other, but thankfully Tony and Cassie weren't here. But unfortunately, neither was Chris.

Jal grimaced as she took another sip of the sugary coffee, her stomach heaving again as she shrunk into the old leather armchair. A few weeks ago, she would have loved the music: the drums banging in her head and the guitars screaming, even if the singer sounded more like a dying cat. But now, it just seemed to invade her ears like she didn't want it to.

"Is that coffee? What happened to 'yeses are good'?"

Jal felt two arms wrap around her waist and she was pulled up backwards towards his chest.

"Chris?"

"It's your lucky day, babe!"

She took another sip of the hot liquid and nearly vomited this time. It was as if she was going into sugar overload.

"Whoa, Jal!" Chris snatched the coffee off her and set it down on the table heavily, "why the fuck are you drinking coffee at a gig?"

Jal shrugged her shoulders as she turned round to face him and picked up the mug again, determined to finish it now that she'd spent all of her money on it, but her stomach began to jerk again before she even raised it to her lips.

"That's making you hurl?" Chris pulled the mug out of her hands again and downed the contents in one so that Jal couldn't drink any more of it, scowling at the foul taste, "Fuck me, half of Cadbury's World's in there. Why are you trying to make yourself ill?"

_Because then maybe if I'm throwing up, I don't have to think about this...thing. And if I'm ill, I've got an excuse for being fucking pregnant. _

Jal bit back her tongue and stared at Chris blankly.

"What's up Jal? You've been weird since, well, Angie."

Chris met her gaze meekly but now Jal was back to her angry, stubborn state.

"Don't talk about Angie, Chris. I...no, _we_, are just gonna forget about her, okay?"

"Don't know who you're talking about Jalapeno. So is that it? 'Cause I don't like you being so... not like you."

"You mean not drunk and high?" Jal snapped irritably.

"No, like _Jal_." He reached up and cupped her chin in his hand, pecking her once on the lips, "My Jal."

"Tired, ugly and stupid."

"Beautiful," he pecked her again after each word, "clever and feisty. You really don't know how lovely you are, do you? "

"Whoa, Chris!" Jal giggled and rolled her eyes, "You're going Coldplay on me!"

"Yeah well, vegans are fucking fit right now. Have you seen Gwynnie recently?"

Jal thumped him on the arm, venting all her frustration even though he hadn't annoyed her that much.

"Shut up Miles," Jal smiled as Chris rubbed his arm, wincing at his reddened skin, "Or is it Martin?"

"Fuck me, that was hard, Fazer. Carrying that bloody clarinet everywhere makes you stronger than you think."

"Oh really? Surely a big strong man like you can handle it?"

"Maybe I'm not as strong as you think."

He elbowed her in the stomach, more powerfully than he thought he had; Jal gasped as she thought what he might have done and dropped back into the chair. She could tell she was panicking even though she was still numb and nothing might have happened. But now the sting came, and Jal doubled over as she groaned through the sharp rip of pain in her abdomen.

"Jal?"

Chris leaned over her, his face twisted with worry and confusion.

"My stomach..."

"I'm sorry, Jal. I didn't mean to get you so hard...is there something going on?" Jal began to open her mouth to speak, but Chris interrupted, frustratedly banging his head against his palm, "G-d, you're ill aren't you? The coffee made you sick. I'm so fucking stupid."

"No..." Jal wheezed at his upset face, determined that the pain would go away, "Chris, I've got something to tell you."

"No, Jal, don't dump me over this. I'm sorry about Angie and I never meant to hurt you, not now either. Fuck it! Please Jal, I can't lose you now."

"You're not losing me."

Jal breathed in deeply, relieved now the pain and panic had ebbed away. She was still unsure if everything was still okay, but she reasoned that she'd be in a lot more pain if it wasn't. Jal felt more confused about what to do now – she hadn't been so scared for a long time, and could she really get rid of this_ problem_ if she was worried about a slight knock to her stomach?

Chris relaxed, his face no longer so anxious and alarmed. Gently, he eased Jal back up straight and slid onto the armchair next to her, lifting her up slightly so he could sit beneath her. He curled himself protectively around her, tucking her legs on top of his knees so that her balance was completely dependent on him, like a baby. She leaned her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent, but she couldn't relax properly. Jal wanted to tell him, she needed to, but every time she began to talk Chris opened his mouth or did something that made it impossible for her.

"How come you're so tired all the time these days, Jal?"

Jal sniffed loudly, not having enough courage or energy to tell him the truth now.

"Is it all this extra clarinet practise you're doing? You're gonna ace all these exams, alright?"

Jal snuggled into Chris again, wanting him to shut up so she could at least try to enjoy the music.

"You should tell your dad to back off!"

"Hmmm, 'cause it's you that suffers, right? You only get to see me twelve hours a day instead of thirteen."

"Exactly, Jalapeno! It's damaging my health, for fuck's sake."

Jal smiled at him and rubbed his cheek softly, studying Chris's face as he listened to the music.

"Go and dance Chris – you know you want to. See, Maxxie's calling you over!"

They looked over to the band and sure enough, Maxxie was shouting at them from across the hall, using some unknown form of sign language to communicate.

"He looks like he's having a fit with whatever the fuck he's attempting to do," Chris answered, "and besides, I don't have any pills."

"You don't need them. You only need the music, even if it is fucking awful."

"I'll go if you do."

Jal groaned, holding her stomach as the nausea started to return.

"Urghh, I'm too tired – this song's too fast."

Jal was so tired, Chris had picked her up and carried her to the middle of the dancefloor before she'd even noticed. The music was louder here, pounding in her ears, and everyone around them were jumping up and down, dancing energetically like Jal normally would, but all she could bring herself to do was flop in Chris's arms. He set her down on the floor gently and put his hands around her, hugging Jal to him; she rested her head on his shoulder, trying to stop herself from falling asleep or throwing up – she wasn't sure which urge was stronger. But Chris began to dance slowly, even though it defied the music in every way.

"What are you doing?"

"Dancing with you."

"But this is the wrong kind of dancing. Look Chris, just go and dance with Maxxie and 'Chelle. I don't mind, I'm too tired. I'll just go back to the sofas."

"And let you drink coffee which makes you vomit all over yourself?"

"I promise I won't drink any more coffee. Just go and dance: have fun!"

"Nah, I'm having enough fun here."

Jal raised her eyebrow, questioning the amount of fun he could really have with her when she was this stressed and exhausted.

"You're my new pill, alright?"

He wrapped himself around her tighter and Jal couldn't do anything but move with him and shut up. They looked ridiculous, dancing slowly whilst everyone else at the gig danced properly. People were beginning to look at them, especially Michelle, Sid, Maxxie and Anwar, who were still getting used to the fact that they were together.

Jal thought it was weird being the centre of attention, even though she was so used to it when she was performing on her clarinet. All she had now was Chris, and part of her was proud that she'd managed to keep him for so long. She knew that Chris didn't have exactly the best track record or attention span when it came to girls, and he'd proved that last month with Angie. But now she trusted him. He told her that he loved her, and Jal knew that Chris didn't say those sorts of things flippantly. And no-one had told her that they loved her for years, not even her dad.

They danced slowly for hours, waiting for the band to finish their terrible set, oblivious to the people staring at them. They were the last to leave, and they left quietly, being the only people who weren't completely smashed. They went back to Chris's tiny flat and spent the night squashed onto his tiny bed, the doors shut so that Cassie wouldn't disturb them. Since Jal had suggested to Chris that he should let her stay, Cassie had understood that it included her getting out of the way when they were spending time together, which at the moment was most of the day.

They listened to Jal's iPod, Chris groaning when the classical music came on and cheering up when the songs he was more used to played.

"Why do you like this stuff so much?"

Chris shifted round to face Jal halfway through Gershwin's '_Rhapsody in Blue'_ .

Jal smiled at him, glancing down at the screen of her MP3.

"It's better than other music: you can feel real emotion through it, it's not just some guy going on about shagging."

"I dunno, shagging's fucking good, Jalapeno."

"So's this. Just listen – don't worry about what it means. Just let the music flow," Jal turned up the volume to full blast, "And besides, Basshunter doesn't exactly sound great on the clarinet."

Chris leaned back against the wall grinning, pressing the headphone further into his ear. Jal watched his facial expressions as the song continued, and noted the way his fingers tapped the sheet exactly the same time as hers did. Maybe Chris wasn't such a stranger to a good beat after all.

"Hmm...perhaps I could get a little more used to this, eh babe?"

Jal leaned over to him as the song ended, and smiled at him widely, showing off all of her thankfully braces-free teeth.

"You have no idea how much you have just made my day," Jal kissed him gently, smiling to herself at what she considered to be a major achievement in a sadly MTV-dictated music world, "One point Fazer, nil points to Tupac."

"He's not that bad."

"Tell that to years of emotional damage."

They spent ages talking about music, Jal's competitions and Chris's various jobs he'd been trying out since the estate agent sacked him. Jal was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, her heavy eyelids fluttering down after less than a few seconds. It was cold because Chris's heating didn't work properly, so he opened the duvet and they climbed inside, Jal resting her head on his chest. Chris stared at the top of her head as she slept, studying her thick dark hair. The only thing that annoyed him about Jal was how she refused to let him run his fingers through it. She insisted it would make her hair frizz beyond oblivion and make it impossible for her to leave the house without spending hours taming it. Jal even kept her straighteners at Chris's flat because she spent more time there than in her own home these days.

He could tell that she was fast asleep now, dead to the world. So he stroked her hair for a minute to see if it would wake her, and then he dragged his fingers through it properly. The strands of hair curved around his fingers as he touched them, the dim light of the streetlamps outside reflecting off her black waves in gold.

Jal woke in the morning to find Chris asleep with his hands stuck in her hair. It took her ten minutes to untangle it and set him free, and another forty five minutes to straighten it again.

Xxx

Jal glanced back at Sid and Cassie, who had been with her for half an hour in her bedroom whilst she talked aimlessly about Jonah and Graham and her dad. But it was obvious to each of them that they were all thinking about one person – Chris.


	8. Lipstick Corpses

**LIPSTICK CORPSES**

Cassie stared at the rim of her coffee mug. Her lipstick had rubbed off on it, leaving bright red stains on the heavy china mug. Ronnie didn't like cheap stuff in his house, although unsurprisingly, he didn't mind cheap girls. Cassie leaned back on Sid's shoulder, staring at the last remains of the coffee beans which hadn't dissolved into the hot water. She liked to imagine that she could tell the future in them, even though she knew that firstly, it was meant to be tea leaves which told the future, and secondly, you were meant to have some sort of gift or training to be able to do it anyway. Like in Harry Potter.

Cassie used to love Harry Potter. Her dad used to read it to her in bed before Reuben was born, and he would put on silly voices for all the different characters. Dobby had her favourite voice – her dad gave him high pitched, silly speech which sounded like he was on helium gas.

Daddy didn't read Harry Potter anymore when Cassie started to make herself thin though. It didn't start sinisterly at all: one day in Year Eight, Cassie decided she was going to collect chocolate bar wrappers, so she could look at the colours and the silver foil inside and read all the writing, even in the foreign languages. So Cassie collected hundreds of wrappers, of bars she had eaten, ones which her friends let her have and wrappers which were left lying on the grass in the park. But the wrappers looked so much better with the chocolate inside them – they didn't crumple, the light reflected off them better and she could smell the chocolate through the foil. By Christmas, Cassie had gathered sixty three bars exactly.

She didn't eat them, but just read the packaging and sorted them alphabetically, colour-wise and calorie order in the drawer under her bed. Then she started to memorise the ingredients and calorie contents. She knew all of the numbers within two weeks: Kit Kat, 109; Aero, 200; Twix, 270, Mars Bar, 127. Cassie became obsessed with the calories. And then she thought about the calories in everything else. So she did the only thing she could think of to do to make it better: she simply cut them out. No more chocolate, apples, oranges, chips, sausages, pasta, tomatoes, crisps, eggs or salad. Because they all had calories. Once a week, she let herself have half a slice of brown toast with butter and jam, but only thinly spread, and if she ate it before it got cold, she made herself throw it up. Cassie read on the internet that hot food made you fatter than cold food. But Sid said that wasn't true. He said it didn't have any logic and that she should eat as much hot toast and jam as she wanted. Sidney was so very lovely. Cassie thought his glasses were lovely, his hair was lovely when it flopped over his glasses and he also thought that she was lovely too, so that made him even lovelier in Cassie's eyes.

Suddenly, Cassie felt fingertips digging in just below her bottom rib, and she felt her arm burn as someone hit it. She glanced up quickly to look at Sid and Jal, grinning nervously as she realised they were watching her, Sid holding her away anxiously from a furious Jal.

"Oh, wow...why are you looking at me like that?"

"You just tried to grab Jonah from his cot."

"Oh..."

"He was asleep." Jal rocked the whimpering baby in her arms, stepping away from Cassie as she spoke to her confused friend angrily, "He's not now, obviously."

"Sorry."

"Are you alright Cass?" Sid interrupted suddenly. He'd spent months trying to get Cassie to eat normally since the summer, and he wasn't going to let Jal fuck everything up on some stupid hormonal power trip, "Jonah's fine, don't worry."

Cassie's lip trembled, and her voice began to waver as she talked.

"I make everything wrong!"

Jal shook her head, coming closer to Cassie again.

"It's okay Cass," Jal blurted out quickly, realising that maybe she had pushed her too far – she knew from experience it only took the slightest thing to make Cassie go completely overboard, "You haven't hurt him anyway."

Jal flinched as Cassie shook her head, frustrated with herself for not being able to control her mouth around her super-sensitive fantasist of a friend. She hadn't been able to behave tactfully since Chris died, and it hadn't done her any favours.

"Yes I did...I hurt Chris! You were right, Jal, weren't you?" Cassie cried at Sid and Jal hysterically, "It is my fault that Chris is gone...and then I went away and missed it at the church and then everyone hated me more and..."

Cassie took a deep breath, preparing to just vent all of her worries in one go.

"I just wanted to have fun, and he wanted to too, and he wanted you to let him be a daddy, but you wanted to get rid of it, and then you hid for ages and when Jonah came you didn't like him because he reminded you of Chris and it was all my fault because I let him have a spliff."

Sid sucked in air loudly, demonstrating his lack of delicacy.

Jal stared at Cassie like she was seriously mentally disturbed, although Jal half-liked not blaming herself for two seconds.

"And I never told you..."

Cassie's voice dissolved into sobs, and Sid put his arm around her awkwardly, not sure what to do.

"What?" Jal nearly shouted at Cassie, even though she was trying to get Jonah back to sleep, "What didn't you tell me?"

"His last word was your name."

"I thought you told Michelle he forgot it."

"I did. I wanted her to tell you, because I was too scared to find you, but then I didn't tell her the last bit because then it made it true that I wasn't meant to be the last one he saw. I wanted Chris to want me to be the last one, but he only wanted you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Jal could feel her blood boiling, she had no idea what Cassie was babbling on about, but she could tell by her nervous speech that it wasn't something Jal necessarily wanted to hear.

"He was like my big brother, and he was bleeding everywhere and I wanted you to come because you would know what to do, but you weren't there and you were all Chris wanted. And at first, I didn't even believe that he was getting ill again, I thought he was playing a joke on me."

"That's why you ran? Because he wanted me, and not you?"

Cassie shook her head, but then slowly she started to nod ashamedly and turned her head away. She reached down her top and pulled out something round and gold glowing in her fingers, and pressed it into Jal's palm sadly, careful not to touch Jonah again.

Then Cassie ran again.

But she wasn't running away this time.

She was running to the bathroom.

She locked the door so that Sid couldn't come in, because he had guessed and he was banging on the door.

She ran the taps so that you couldn't hear anything but the rush of the water.

Then she stuck two fingers down the back of her throat and pushed.

Xxx

"I can't believe it's already New Year's Eve!"

Michelle coated her lips with pink gloss, before turning to do Jal's.

"Time flies, 'Chelle."

Michelle pouted at the mirror, slipping out of her clothes and into a very low-cut vest and red skinny jeans.

"Cheer up Jal. Come on, we're going to get absolutely pissed."

"I can't."

"Huh?"

Michelle cocked her head as Jal lifted her t-shirt over her head, careful to avoid the wet lip gloss.

"I don't feed Jonah with formula," Jal said quietly, avoiding Michelle's eye contact, "and I can't drink in case it passes on."

Michelle wrinkled her nose as Jal spoke; she was embarrassed she hadn't considered this already.

Jal pulled her dress on quickly, and Michelle zipped it up at the back for her.

"Whoa, you've gone up like three cup sizes," Michelle exclaimed, trying to boost her own bust with her hands, "maybe I should get knocked up!"

Jal scowled at her fiercely and flopped down on the bed, holding her head in her hands. Apologising, Michelle sat next to her, teetering nervously on the edge.

"So how are you then?"

"Jonah's fine, he's not been ill since last week. The midwife had to come from the hospital to check up on him, and it was a disaster with my dad, but..."

"No, Jal," Michelle interrupted, "how are _you_?"

Jal crossed her legs awkwardly, smoothing her thick hair with her hands.

"Fine. Tired. Shit! I've got no idea what I'm fucking doing 'Chelle."

"Well..." Michelle scrabbled for something to say that didn't sound too patronising or cheesy, but failed, "it's a new year tonight, and we can start afresh."

Jal raised an eyebrow, questioning Michelle's predictable choice of words before her face fell glum again.

"How can I? I don't know what to do about uni; I'm meant to be in this competition in two weeks but I can't just leave Jonah to go back to London. Besides, I'm not sure that my teachers even know what's happened."

"Do you want to go back to London?"

"Yes, no... I don't know anything right now,"

Jal fell backwards so she was lying flat on the bed and Michelle watched her eyes blaze with frustration and then drift off away with her thoughts as Jal pondered aloud.

"But I like being near Chris. It sounds so stupid and unlikely, but it seems easier somehow _with_ reminders. Before, I was miserable on my own even though I thought staying would be harder. But now I walk past his flat every day and we can go and see him at the graveyard whenever we want."

"Looks like the problem is whether you're ready to let go yet."

Michelle wrinkled her nose again as Jal sat up staring at her, the white bedroom light bouncing off her saddened brown eyes. She put her arm around Jal and hugged her sideways, realising she hadn't really hugged her best friend properly since the summer, partly because they only spoke on the phone until recently, and partly due to Jal's uncharacteristic behaviour leading to Michelle's wariness of her.

Jal suddenly stiffened under Michelle's arm; Michelle knew this meant that Jal had either had enough of being sentimental or was worrying about something.

"Have you seen Cassie since Tuesday?"

It was the latter.

Michelle was puzzled by Jal's question, confused to as why this was important to their conversation.

"No, why?"

"I completely fucked everything up on Boxing Day."

Michelle stayed quiet waiting for her to explain, not wanting to have to launch an interrogation like she normally did with Jal whenever she wanted to know even the slightest thing, like how much a magnum ice cream cost.

"I flipped out on her because I thought she was going to hurt Jonah and then she went off on a bender and started spouting all this shit about Chris and how he died and I just shouted at her. And then she went to be sick. I spent so much fucking time trying to stop her from getting hurt, and then stupid fucking me goes and fucks everything completely up!"

Jal stood up angrily and rubbed the skin on the inside of her elbow quickly until it was red raw as she scowled.

"Whoa."

"Whoa-de-fucking-doo."

"Whoa-de-fucking-doo?"

"I'm annoyed and hormonal – don't cross me."

"Right, point taken."

"Good."

Jal smirked at Michelle, and picked up her clarinet box, carrying it over to the bed.

"Jal, don't start playing now. We're meant to be going out in five minutes."

"No, I want to show you something."

Jal reached inside a small pocket in the satin lining by the side of the instrument which Michelle would never have noticed if she hadn't seen Jal use it. Jal pulled out a large gold plastic coin and held it up, smiling far too fondly for Michelle's liking.

"It's a plastic coin, Jal."

"No, it's mine and Chris's lucky coin. And Cass gave it back," Jal frowned at herself, turning the coin over in her hands, "she took it to New York with her when Chris died. She said that he had lost it, but I didn't believe her. He barely ever let go of it when he was in hospital."

"And now you've got it back."

"Yes, I fucking do. And it is going to bring me the luck I missed out on these past few months."

"You missed out on a lot of luck, I guess."

"Yeah, I did."

Michelle stood up and crossed the room to get their coats from the chair in the corner and chucked Jal's at her before putting on her own.

"At least you've got big tits."

Xxx

It was five am on New Year's Day. Everyone was in Michelle's bedroom sat in a circle, half sober, half drunk. Everyone except for Jal who was hyper rather than drunk, as was Cassie, having decided to join Jal in sobriety.

Blowing air into an empty beer bottle, Maxxie whistled Calvin Harris' '_The Girls_', his current favourite song. But Maxxie called it, '_The Boys_'. Jal and Cassie joined in and soon everyone was whistling the song together, with Maxxie pretending to conduct them. They looked silly, but no-one cared.

Maxxie placed the bottle in the middle of the circle, shushing all his friends.

"It's 2009, right? And it ain't gonna be a good one without doing this first."

He spun the bottle whilst everyone else looked at each-other, puzzled. But Maxxie, being Maxxie had spun the bottle so that it landed on him first.

"2006, Year 11, my birthday party."

Everybody stared at him in confusion, with no idea of what Maxxie was talking about at all.

"Remember when the lads from my estate gate-crashed? And they completely ruined it by trashing the flat, drinking all we had and outing me to my dad?"

Jal nodded slowly, beginning to guess where Maxxie was going with this.

"But Chris helped me throw them out because Anwar and Tony," he pulled a face at the accused, jokily pretending that he hated them," were blind drunk and completely knocked out."

"Actually, so were we."

Michelle piped up suddenly, her head resting on Tony's shoulder because she was so tired.

"Exactly, Winehouse. So later, we were the only ones still conscious, finishing off the food, and I asked how he had managed to stay awake, especially on the amount we had drunk. Turned out he was drugged up on Viagra and he couldn't lie down because it showed too much."

Jal stared at Maxxie; for ages she had wanted to know more stories about Chris, she wanted to know every tiny little detail about him. Mainly it was selfish because she almost needed to have more of him to hold on to, but now she had a more important excuse to find out as much as she could: Jonah.

Maxxie looked at her now he had finished, slightly wary in case she wasn't ready for it. But Jal smiled and leaned over to spin the bottle. It landed on Cassie.

"Chris gave me a lollipop at school once. It was very lovely of him."

"A lollipop?" Tony raised his eyebrow at her, once again exercising his belief that he was superior to everyone else in the universe, "Your best memory of an entire living organism is a lollipop?"

"It was bubble gum flavoured. It made my tongue all bright blue."

Cassie spun the bottle this time while everyone else giggled at her apart from Tony, who frowned rather disdainfully.

As time flew past them and the sun began to rise higher in the sky, more memories of Chris filled the air, and they had all laughed so hard at Cassie's comments and old jokes of Chris, their sides screamed with pain. Michelle, James, Anwar, Tony and Sid had shared their best times now too and Jal was getting nervous that hers would always be bittersweet and not funny like theirs because somehow, hers meant more or had more promise for the future.

Michelle finished telling her second memory (the bottle landed on her twice), causing everyone to dissolve into giggles at the tale of how she and Chris were forced to pretend they were married in Year 11 when they'd got on the wrong side of a religious police officer after a strip poker party. Grinning, Tony leaned forward to spin the bottle once more, his eyes piercing through Jal icily as if he were trying to see right through her.

The bottle spun on the cold hard floor, rattling against the surface as it moved. It began to slow, and gradually stopping, finally landed on Jal.

They stopped laughing at Michelle now. Seven pairs of eyes rested on her nervously, expectantly, suspiciously. Jal could feel their glare and hesitated to talk. She could see millions of memories flashing in her head all at once and it was impossible to decide on what could possibly be the best one. Was it even possible to find the best part of Chris?

_Jal's hand ached as she leant over her work on the sofa, scribbling the notes messily on the manuscript paper. When she read it back, she could hear the notes in her head playing just as if she were sounding them on the clarinet. She closed her eyes and hummed the tune, imagining the notes of the music flowing through the air visibly._

_She didn't notice the intrusive noises of the upstairs residents cutting through into the flat; the sound of Chris opening the door behind her; his footsteps getting louder as he got closer. Jal was completely absorbed in her own world, barely even conscious of her surroundings, until she felt his soft lips on her neck jolting her back to reality. She smiled as he woke her from her daydreams, not even minding as his hands swept over her body, which Jal was sometimes slightly wary of. She dropped her books on the floor, letting the music finally escape her mind, and turned round to face him, catching his lips on her cheek. _

"_I've got a present for you, birthday girl."_

_Chris told her excitedly, tucking Jal's hair behind her ear for her as he sang cheekily into it._

"_It's not my birthday, though."_

"_That's not the point."_

"_Huh?"_

"_Just take the fucking gift, babe."_

_He folded her fingers around a narrow envelope, pressing his hands over hers softly. Jal sliced it open quickly, glaring suspiciously at Chris as she slid her hand inside. She pulled out two thick pieces of card, sweeping her fingers over the printed black ink as she felt the excitement wash over her._

"_Chris! How did you manage to get these? They're sold out."_

_He grinned at her cheekily, pleased that she was happy with him._

"_Paid some piano geek double."_

"_You paid double the price for a classical music concert? For me?"_

"_Sure did, Jalapeno."_

"_But you hate my music."_

"_I'll take my iPod." _

_Jal elbowed him, smirking as he stumbled backwards and tried to pretend that he was just stepping back to tie his shoelaces, even though he didn't have any. Jal raised her eyebrow as Chris fumbled with the tongue of his shoe, moving his hands around pointlessly so it looked like he was actually doing something. She stuck his tongue out at him when he glanced up at her, blushing bright red; Chris stood up slowly, pushing his face so close to hers Jal couldn't avoid his eye contact. _

"_To be honest, I'm not sure why it's sold out. We'll probably be the only ones there under eighty."_

At least there won't be any girls to distract you.

_Jal felt her insides squirm as she thought of what she dreaded most. Surely this was just a fling – she knew Chris, his attention waned eventually. He didn't even like the same music as her, so how could they really work long term? As if opposites really attracted. She knew from her mum and dad that people with different tastes never had successful relationships. Honestly, Jal thanked G-d every day in her head that Angie wasn't still around. She felt sure he would dump her within a second if their old psychology teacher turned up, even if Chris kept doing spontaneous things and buying her presents and telling her that she was his. And Jal was scared that when he did leave her, she'd be left broken. She wasn't one of those girls who fawned over texts and spent hours picking outfits and doing make-up like Michelle. But being with Chris was making her different. Now she made an effort to wear the jewellery, clothes and perfume he bought her. She still obsessed over her clarinet and her schoolwork, but they didn't seem like the be all and end all of her life anymore. Chris was beginning to be._

"_Jal?"_

_She snapped back to reality as Chris spoke, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to let her thoughts take over her._

"_Sorry. I was just-"_

"_Thinking. You think a lot, Jalapeno."_

"_So do most intelligent organisms," she retorted bitterly, cross at Chris for her lack of trust, or even his inability to make her trust him, "It must have just been you who got missed out when they were giving out brains. You obviously just got Viagra."_

"_Ouch."_

_Chris leant away from her, removing the tickets from Jal's fingers swiftly and placing them on the kitchen worktop next to his mobile. She couldn't bring herself to look at Chris when the hurt began to register on his face._

"_Am I not clever enough for you? Has your dad been having a go?"_

"_No! I just-"_

"_Jal! Do you really like me? Honestly?"_

"_Yes! Honestly, but I..."_

_Chris leant in, trying to read her face. He hated how she was impossible to figure out sometimes. There were times when he thought the only time he really understood how she felt was when Jal played her clarinet and if he focussed hard enough, he could tell what she was thinking from her face expression and how she played. _

"_I'm scared, Chris."_

"_Of me?"_

_Chris listened carefully; he was surprised that Jal was conveying any emotion. Normally she just bottled everything up, and it took her ages to tell anyone anything. It had been the same since they first met all those years ago, let alone started going out._

"_No...of losing you to someone else. How do I know you'll still want me when someone prettier, funnier, more drugged up than me comes along? Or if Angie comes back?"_

_Chris sighed and took Jal's face in his hands, forcing her to look at him properly in the eyes._

"_I'd never hurt you Jal. You can trust me around other girls. You're my girl, alright? Not anyone else, not Angie. I want you. Just you."_

"_Promise?"_

_Jal gazed at Chris like a small child. Chris almost enjoyed it; for once, he was the one who had the answers and who wasn't in trouble and it was him comforting her, not vice versa._

"_Pinkie promise, Jalapeno."_

_He hugged her to him, feeling her relax in his arms. Chris smiled as he smelt her; she was wearing the perfume he had bought her two weeks ago. It smelt slightly of cinnamon, like Christmas._

"_I meant what I said the other day at McDonald's. I'm falling in love with you Jal."_

"_You remember that?"_

"_Maybe I wasn't as drunk as you thought I was."_

_Jal broke away from his hug and leant backwards so she could look at him. She had left a print of her lipstick on his shoulder._

"_Maybe I wasn't either."_

_Chris pressed his lips onto hers, pleased with himself for convincing Jal that he didn't want anyone else. And it was true, wasn't it? He wasn't going to fuck this up. He'd fucked up childhood, fucked up GCSEs, fucked up A-levels. Actually so far, he'd fucked up life in general. So how come one little sticker, one little sticker he kept in his wallet (even when it was otherwise empty), stopped him from fucking up _now_? Chris wondered if Jal still had her sticker, if she read the message over and over again every morning and night to remind herself of him and their promise. He hoped so. Otherwise he was a complete soppy fuckwit. _

_Chris was beginning to convince himself too. He didn't need Angie. He didn't need anyone who was cleverer, funnier or prettier. Chris thought that Jal was the most intelligent person he knew (Tony didn't count – he was an arrogant dickhead, even if he had been run over by a fucking 44A) and he thought she was funny, maybe not in the conventional way, but she had mannerisms which made him laugh: he laughed when Jal blew up her face when she began to play the clarinet; he laughed when she sucked a milkshake through a straw too quickly and she went bright purple like Barney the dinosaur (minus the green spots); he laughed when she raised her eyebrows so perfectly that it seemed like she had spent her whole life getting the arch right even though he knew that it came naturally to her; he laughed when she finished reading a book and went into a mild depression whether it was good or bad, depending on whether she didn't want the book to end or whether she was angry for wasting her time on it. And as for the pretty...Chris didn't think she was not pretty at all, especially now her braces were off – she was more confident and she'd really thrown herself into 'Yeses are good'. And he'd seen her naked, which of course did not hinder his opinion in the slightest._

_A sudden loud noise from upstairs cut through the kiss. Somehow, it spoiled the ambience. _

"_Want me to walk you home?"_

_Jal nodded shyly, smiling at Chris. She'd never been walked home properly before. Being half carried, half dragged home because you were too drunk to walk didn't count._

_They began the journey to Jal's house hand in hand, Chris holding her clarinet and schoolbag for her. They wandered through the park, hearing the wind rushing through the trees, and watched the ducks glide along the top of the pond, picking at the last crumbs of bread which had been thrown to them during the day. _

_Jal led Chris to a bench nearby and they watched the ducks for ages. Chris hummed a song under his breath and only Jal could hear him. It was their secret, and none of the annoying pricks who hung round the park at night could hear. Jal could see Effy in the distance, probably doing drugs and boys, but she didn't care. Music was only theirs now. Chris had worked it out – Jal didn't like talking so much, but she could always be reached through music. When she was angry, she listened to violent music; when she was happy, dance music. And now Chris was singing to her. To be fair, it was a crap song (in fact, if it was anyone else, Jal would have told them to shut up ages ago), but Jal understood the lyrics more when Chris sung them. And for some reason, it didn't seem as soppy as normal. Yes, it was still crap beyond crap, but it was nice crap._

_The moon seemed to grow somehow as they drifted off to sleep through the night. Jal could feel the rise and fall of his chest under hers as they snoozed, moving up and down together as the early spring temperature dropped around them. _

_Chris woke up as the light crept through his eyelids, the bright sun refusing to let him rest any longer. He stretched as Jal woke slowly too, her head sore from resting on his chest at an awkward angle. Both their backs killed from the wooden bench and they were freezing from being in the cold all night. Chris folded his arms around Jal as they squinted in the sunlight._

"_I'll make it for us, Jal. One day we'll have a better place – no noises from the fucking neighbours and enough room for proper parties."_

"_What about the flatwarming tomorrow?"_

"_That's just Cass filling her time. When we've got our own house, the parties will be legendary."_

_His eyes sparkled as he spoke, and Jal giggled, curling into his goose-bumped skin as he hugged her tighter._

"_Our house?"_

"_House. We'll be proper minted. Like Polos."_

"_Just like Polo sweets, Chris."_

_They left the park, Chris leaving for work and Jal for school, both of them still in yesterday's clothes and yesterday's make-up smeared all over both their faces – Jal's lipstick had rubbed off on Chris's lips a lot._

"_See you this evening, babe!"_

_Chris kissed her goodbye, slipping the concert tickets into her pocket._

"_Can't wait, Chris."_

_And it was true. Jal couldn't wait. In fact, she'd decided to spend her free lessons this afternoon at Chris's, so she could make sure everything was ready – she could help Cassie when she got back from her careers meeting with Josie while Chris was working. Nothing could spoil them now. Jal was convinced they were completely solid. Nothing or no-one was going to get inbetween her and Chris today. _

"You never mentioned going to a concert. Fuck, I can't imagine Chris at a classical music gig!"

Maxxie spoke to Jal first, breaking the silence after she told them her memory. She hadn't told her friends everything, of course, but enough for them to figure out there were plenty of intimate moments left out that she'd rather not reveal.

"We didn't go. I had a doctor's appointment," she lowered her eyes to the floor, remembering her conversation with that nurse; "We just had a night in. He made eggy bread...African American style."

Jal raised her eyebrows at Maxxie, laughing at Chris's joke even though he'd cracked it so long ago and she hadn't exactly been in the best of moods at the time.

"I miss him loads, Max."

"I know. So do I."

Maxxie squeezed her hand and ripped the wrapper off the bottle. He took a green felt tip from his pocket and wrote 'CHRIS' in bright, thick letters on the white back of the label. Then he took Jal's lipstick and made up her lips, before doing his own. He passed it round until everyone had lipstick on, even Tony. They laughed at how ridiculous they looked and took photos of each-other on the state-of-the-art camera Michelle had got for Christmas from her step dad. Maxxie lifted the bottle wrapper to Jal's lips and she kissed it, leaving bright red lip marks over Chris's name. Then Maxxie kissed it too, and then Michelle and Cassie. The boys were so drunk they kissed it and seven red lip prints covered the label around Jal's kiss in the middle.

"See?"

Maxxie hugged Jal to him, passing her the label.

"We haven't started 2009 without him."

"Or next year?"

"Or the year after."

"There'll be a new memory every year, Jal."

"For me or for Jonah?"

"For both of you. And each memory comes with a lipstick kiss."

He leaned over and kissed Jal on the cheek, leaving a bright mark on her soft skin.

"Thanks for the lipstick, Jal."

"Thanks for the memories, Max."


	9. Kaleidoscope Eyes

**KALEIDOSCOPE EYES**

The clock ticked slowly. Each second seemed to drag on forever.

Jal got out of her seat, fed up with all the waiting. Jonah was still asleep in his pram, so she couldn't even occupy herself by talking to or playing with him. She never thought she'd actually be annoyed he was asleep, especially after some of the nights he'd forced her to stay awake through.

But this was hell.

How much longer did she have to fucking wait anyway?

Suddenly, the door opened, and Jal was summoned inside. She took a deep breath and wheeled the pram in, ignoring the look of the old man as he caught sight of her baby.

Fuck him.

Just because his life had turned out the way he wanted it to didn't make him any better than her, did it?

It didn't make Chris any worse than anyone else.

_Jal shut the door behind her, being careful to close it carefully so it wouldn't slam and make a loud noise. Her arms ached from carrying the bags and her clarinet case and she felt unbelievably tired but she couldn't really give an excuse without risking people guessing the real reason. _

_She shuffled forward a few metres and dumped everything on the kitchen floor, immediately going to pour a glass of cold tap water and bring it over to the sofa. She crossed the room silently, closing her eyes as she thought of how different everything was now from only a few weeks earlier. Life was going to be very different from now on anyway. _

_Jal set the glass down on the table on top of a paper coaster which had been nicked from a pub a few weeks ago. You could barely see the beer advertisement through all of the coffee rings and water marks which had been left behind on it. It was weird how paying attention to tiny details helped Jal forget the bad memories; they let her take her mind off reality. But even then, everything in her mind meandered back to real life eventually. Everything she'd felt, seen and heard in the past few months flooded back into her head, clouding up her vision and judgement until she just stood still completely absorbed in her memories, deaf, dumb and blind._

"_Jal?"_

_His voice cut through her thoughts sharply, jolting her back to Earth._

_She turned around swiftly, realising she had left him waiting there for too long._

"_Sorry, I was thinking about..."_

_Her voice trailed off as blinking, she took his arm and helped him walk to his bedroom, realising that she had been forcing herself to think about reality through trying not to. Jal laid Chris down on his bed slowly and propped up the pillows behind his head. She sat beside him, checking the duvet was warm and covering him enough and making sure that none of the windows were open to make him too cold so that he would catch the flu. _

"_What were you thinking about?"_

"_Oh, nothing. Nothing interesting or special, anyway."_

"_You wanted me to stay there, didn't you? Until you were sure I was completely better for you."_

_Jal hesitated, not wanting to patronise him but wanting to tell him off all at the same time._

"_Yes," she eventually admitted, "I did. I'm not good enough to look after you. If something goes wrong, I can't do anything. I don't want to have to risk that."_

"_You're not. I am."_

"_Why? Why are you risking everything, Chris? Isn't it hard enough already?"_

_Chris tried to shuffle so he could sit up, but Jal stopped him, forcing him to relax._

"_This way I won't lose you. You're stuck - you gotta stay with me 24/7."_

_Jal smirked at him, tapping his cheek lightly as if she were pretending to practise old-fashioned corporal punishment on him. She raised her eyebrow at Chris, daring him to make her worry, laugh, get angry, or worst of all, cry. _

_The door slammed shut suddenly – Cassie was home now. Chris groaned as the loud noise hit his ears and when the pain swept across his face, Jal couldn't help feeling completely out of her depth. _

_She frowned and shifted around, leaving to get something, anything for him. It wasn't as if she could do much else._

_Chris grabbed her hand quickly as he tried to stop her from leaving the room. He leaned forward, balancing himself by holding her waist._

"_24/7, Jal," He pleaded with Jal, begging her not to go, "you stayed with me in the hospital"._

_Jal sighed again to herself, hating herself for feeling uncomfortable around him now, even though Jal knew deep down she was really too scared to leave him._

_She felt sick. So far, she had been able to convince herself it was all okay because she didn't seem to suffer from normal so-called pregnancy symptoms, but certain smells made Jal feel terrible. She couldn't bear the stench of food. She'd forced herself to eat around Chris so he thought everything was normal, but it made her feel like vomiting. Cassie was attempting to bake a welcome home cake in the kitchen now – the aroma was seeping under the door, smothering their faces. Chris sniffed, grinning as he inhaled the sweet smell; Jal only just managed to catch herself from retching. _

_Chris watched her carefully, focussing on Jal's sad expression. She seemed anxious and on edge the whole time. He knew she wasn't happy with him leaving hospital early, but he hated it there. It reminded him of Peter, his dad leaving, his mum leaving and everything that fucked up life so far. And he didn't want Jal to think that their future was hospitals: empty, cold, disinfectant-tainted hospitals. It didn't seem fair that she had to waste her time with him there. She'd refused to go to any parties or even go home when he was kept in, though Chris had noticed Jal hadn't been so interested in parties and dancing and drinking and drugs for a couple of months now. There was something up with her, but Chris was too tired to try and figure out what._

"_Hey," he stroked her cheek, guiding her face towards him so she would look at him. Jal finally let Chris catch her eye contact; he saw tears shimmering gold against her brown eyes. The past few weeks, it had begun to dawn on Chris that maybe he meant as much to her as she did to him. _

"_Don't be sad, don't be blue, don't you know that I love you?"_

_Jal blinked and two fat tears rolled down her cheek, settling on Chris's hand. Still clutching her with his other hand, he brought it up to his face and watched the clear globes of salty water balancing on the surface of his skin. Chris blew them, wishing everything could go back to how it used to be as they fell down to soak into his duvet: before Angie came; when he still had his job; before the headaches started clouding up his brain. _

_He pulled Jal towards him weakly, and she lay down next to him. Chris noticed she was resting awkwardly on her side, refusing to lean inwards on her stomach at all. He tugged her to him closer and Jal tipped slightly more but she still balanced all her weight on her arm. Chris rested his hand on her bare stomach under her top - it was soft and warm – he could feel the hot blood under her skin. She was nervous. He didn't want her to be nervous around him._

_Chris kissed her on the cheek, trying to calm his girlfriend down. She wasn't crying anymore at least. He hated how much Jal cried because he believed it was entirely his fault._

_Jal cursed herself inside her head for letting him work out that he'd scared her by leaving the hospital. And for letting Chris see her cry. Actually, she was angry at herself just for crying. She did too much of that, anyway. Jal was surprised she even had any tears left: if they were allotted, she'd definitely used them up for the next five years at least. Or maybe she was using ones she was owed from years ago. _

_She could feel his cold hand, wet from her tears, on her stomach. Jal was training herself to ignore what she felt inside her. She didn't flinch or stiffen when she felt a slight kick or movement – Jal couldn't risk leaving any clues for Chris to guess. She still had no idea what to do._

The old man and his colleagues stared at her. Jal stared back fiercely. She wasn't going to back down now._ S_he'd spent too long working for this place, years before Jonah, Chris and even Roundview Sixth Form College.

Jal clutched her clarinet case – she was ready to fight for her place, if they still wanted her. She had assumed they wouldn't be welcoming her with open arms now that she was a bog-standard teenage mother, whether she was the best clarinettist they'd had for years or not.

"So, Miss Fazer."

A woman on the man's left, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a tight scowl, began to speak. Jal snapped her head sharply to her, determined to soak in every single word.

"Are you still interested in your place here? I see you were scheduled to play in the January concert later this week."

Jal's heart sank. Were.

"Interested? Look, I need this course. I love my music; I don't know what to do without it. Please. Just give me a break."

"You're one of our scholarship students, Miss Fazer," the bitter man replied. Jal decided she definitely wasn't fond of him, "I believe we've given you plenty of breaks already."

Wanker.

Jal turned her attention back to the horn-rimmed woman. She began to open her mouth to speak, argue her case, but the woman interrupted.

"How do you think you're going to manage this, Jalander? Your father lives in Bristol, does he not? That's quite far away from here. We don't have much room for a baby in our dorms."

"My dad isn't interested in what I do. He's got his work to focus on anyway. I was thinking, well I was hoping, that I could rent a flat. I think I can afford someone to look after him for some time; I've got some savings."

"Enough for a nanny?"

"A few thousand."

The woman blinked at her honesty, obviously not conditioned to learning of people's financial information so easily and bluntly.

Jal lowered her glare, knowing that £200 each week was coming into her account from an anonymous source. She had assumed it was Graham, guilty that he'd run away from her at Christmas, left Chris all those years ago and just generally fucked that chapter of his life up. After all, who else could it be?

"It seems like you have thought a lot about this Miss Fazer. Resuming your place at the Royal Society is not a light decision to make, regarding your situation."

Jal made herself look at the old man. He was peering at Jonah through his watery grey eyes, sweeping over the stitches in his head and the visible bruise on his wrist from the hospital drip.

"He's been ill. In hospital."

"I see," he switched back to Jal, and she couldn't be sure that he believed her, "Well Miss Fazer, we shall see you on Wednesday when term commences."

"Thank you, sir."

"I expect a good performance on Sunday night."

"Yes sir."

Jal smiled as she left the intimidating wood-panelled room. Life was going to be tough from now on. Actually, it was going to be hellish. But Jal felt more secure in her future now. She had to be the best for definite now and prove herself. She was going to make sure that she worked to the bone now to get her qualifications.

After all, it was all she and Jonah had to rely on.

Xxx

Jal slumped against the wall sitting on top of her bed. She sighed as Jonah tried to tug at her to catch her attention. She stroked his head lightly, letting her fingers linger on his stitches perhaps a moment too long for it to stop her feeling guilty. She traced the thread, feeling the ugly contrast between the fine material and his soft dark hair. Jonah's hand curled tightly around her other finger; he was getting stronger again. Jonah wasn't so pale anymore either – his skin was returning to its former tanned shade, brown against his bright blue eyes. She could still see the obvious difference between her skin and his though and it reminded Jal again that Jonah was both hers and Chris's. For every little part of him which was like her, Jal found another which was most definitely from Chris. Like the way Jonah's eyes looked a slightly different shade of blue in some lights or when he was in certain moods. Jal remembered how Chris's eyes always seemed to change almost every time he looked at her, even though his were a lighter colour than their son's. She felt more comfortable just looking after her baby now, without anyone around to check that she wasn't doing anything wrong or watching her for signs of depression or break down again. So what if she'd cried too much recently? It wasn't any more than Michelle or Cassie had ever cried during illness and break-ups. Some might even say Jal had handled it all pretty well, considering the situation.

Privacy.

It was odd.

In fact, the whole fact she was even here was odd.

Finding an envelope with your name on it containing an address and keys wasn't normal. Jal didn't trust it, but she was desperate. She figured she'd try it out for a few nights until she got a phone call from the bank saying the rent for two years been deposited in a new bank account for her, only to be used for that purpose.

Jal had asked who had set it up, but the bank refused to tell her.

This couldn't still be Graham, could it? Unless she was just inheriting money which was meant to be left to Chris. Or it could be more like guilt money. Maybe Graham had a lot of money stashed which he kept secret. He'd been abroad loads, according to Chris since Peter died. Well, since he abandoned Chris and his mum.

_Chris's mum!_

Jal hadn't thought about her much at all.

Fuck, she didn't deserve it anyway.

Wasn't even bothered enough to turn up when Chris was ill or to his funeral.

She took better care of Chris than his mum ever did. And Jal believed she probably loved him more.

Jal couldn't imagine leaving your kid now that Jonah had got ill, even if Chris's mum was depressed or some other shit like that. And if Jonah had died...

It didn't bear thinking about.

Jal switched her mind to the flat again. No, _her_ flat. It felt so weird, having your own place with no interruptions from anyone. It was true that Chris's flat was practically hers, and she'd basically left home months ago when they got together, but Cassie was always there, muscling in on everything. Jal felt liberated and scared at the same time. She'd always wanted to be independent, to get away from her dad, but now it had actually happened, it freaked her out. It hadn't been the same when Jal had come to London to start university because she was escaping, trying to forget her old life and her future. But now it was all kicking off. With a baby.

G-d, a baby! Life really didn't turn out the way she expected it to. Though to be fair, she never expected her and Chris would get so close, even when they first got together. Jal didn't imagine that she would learn to love anyone again after her mum left, but with Chris...

Jal paced around the room, trying to wind Jonah. It wasn't nearly as embarrassing feeding him when there was no-one who might burst in the room suddenly. She didn't exactly enjoy it, but the midwife had said it was better to keep him off formulas after his aneurysm. Jal figured it was better to grin and bear it than set herself up for more heartbreak.

The nanny was sorted. She'd made sure he knew how to cope if Jonah got ill again. Her nanny was called Dan. Danny the Nanny, Cassie had joked. But Dan had some medical training – he had dropped out halfway through medical school because he couldn't afford it. Jal was happy with what she'd made of the situation so far. She liked to think she had handled it quite well considering what had happened. People got depressed and went psycho over less.

She was going back to lectures tomorrow. Jal knew there would be bitching, gossip, whispers behind her back from the other students. But what could you do? That was what happened when you kept secrets. They eventually came out. Especially ones involving babies and hospitals.

Jal could cope with that though. As long as she could get on with her work, she could make it work. How hard could it be to carry on like before, only this time she wouldn't feel like ill, bloated or depressed. Life was hard, but it had been harder.


	10. Chinese Whispers

**CHINESE WHISPERS**

"I read in _Heat_ that she shagged loads of boys and doesn't even know who the father is."

Jal shoved past the girl, purposefully making sure she noticed Jal had heard.

"Fucking slut."

The girl knocked into Jal hard as she spoke, ensuring that Jal fell onto her knees, her papers flying across the floor. Jal gasped as her left palm split open on the sharp edge of the music stand, a thin trickle of blood dropping down her wrist from her hand. Nobody stopped to help her: they were all reading magazines and tabloids which had pictures and rumours about her and her family spread across the front. Jal winced as she flexed her hand, trying to convince herself that the girl hadn't just pushed her over on purpose. She couldn't believe that this idiot who had no idea who Jal really was could call her a slut, especially as Jal had always been adamant she wouldn't mess around with just anyone for no reason but fun. She breathed in deeply, trying to stop her anger from reaching boiling point. The old Jal wouldn't wait one moment to defend herself and give the bitch what she deserved, but now she had to remind herself that she couldn't get into trouble. And anyway, it wouldn't do anyone any good to have a slanging match in the middle of the concert hall stage.

She dragged herself to her feet and gathered up her sheets, dropping them frustratedly onto the music stand. It was skewed over from where her hand had crashed into it, and Jal spent ages trying to adjust it back to normal; she must have looked ridiculous trying to grip the stand with her cut hand, wincing loudly as the pain ripped through. Jal could tell everyone was watching her, bitching about her, laughing at her. She thought that maybe at such a prestigious arts college people would be at least slightly more polite, but it seemed that posh fuckwits were exactly the same as normal ones. They judged just as much as everyone else, only it was worse because they actually believed that they (and mummy and daddy) were superior. Finally, the stand fixed, she stood ready behind the stand as the other students jumped off the stage, giggling and whispering about her, even though the conductor had just entered to start the concert rehearsal. Jal almost felt like crying, but she knew that there were more important things to waste her tears on than these wankers. At least because she had been called to rehearse first, she could get it over with and go home to Jonah if she did well enough. It was the first time she had gotten up in front of the other students to play, but she had to attend this recital. Before Christmas, Jal avoided playing her clarinet where it would draw attention to her, only practising in her room or during her private lessons with teachers.

Everyone glared at her from the auditorium seats. Jal could hear the whispers even up here, echoing off the wooden floor and the old Victorian walls. Jal could see the girl who pushed her over spreading rumours and dirty comments about her to the other students.

_Shit! What was her problem? _

Jal knew that everyone would gossip about her, but she didn't think it would be this bad. The worst part was that people didn't even know the whole story: some journalist had snapped her pushing Jonah's pram back in Bristol, knowing that Jal was Ronnie Fazer's secretive, goody two shoes daughter. The next day, an article splashed across the front page of _The Sun_ revealed how Jalander Fazer, who had always distanced herself from her brothers' scene, had got knocked up just like the girls she seemed to avoid. From then onwards, everything had blown out of proportion and the story was literally everywhere. Jal was grateful that the press hadn't worked out where she was living yet, though several people from college had leaked rumours to the newspapers and there had been some photographers and journalists approaching her around university. Even though Ace and Lynton liked being in the tabloids and magazines, Jal had always made a point of not taking part, especially when she still had her braces on. Her father's appearances on TV promoting one of his artists' new albums didn't make anything better either. He acted as if nothing had happened, like Jal and Jonah didn't even exist. But the papers didn't know anything about Chris yet, or how he died and how ill Jonah had been less than three weeks ago. Jal was glad that Chris hadn't been dragged into the whole mess, but she couldn't help thinking that if everyone knew what had really happened they wouldn't be bitching about her so viciously and would perhaps treat her with a little bit more respect. Still, she didn't want to be pitied by anyone. Jal hated feeling looked down upon.

Jal brought her clarinet up to her lips. She stared at the music in front of her, which she knew she hadn't practised nearly as much she normally would for a performance. The Tale Ognenovski Concert for Clarinet No. 1 was absolutely brutal – it was one of the most difficult pieces she'd ever clapped eyes on – and no-one had played it before in a concert at the Royal College of Music. Talk about pressure. And Jal had to prove to the board that she deserved to be there, not to mention the other students. But the only way Jal could do it was to play: she had to play well; the best she'd ever played. How else could she get them off her back? Ignoring the rumours and the loud comments circulating around university everyday (which she was obviously intended to hear) wasn't working. She took a deep breath and began to play.

_Fuck, the Ognenovski was hard!_

Why the hell did she agree to play this?

Jal concentrated completely on the music, pushing all her bitter thoughts and the pain from her hand out of her head. There wasn't any space for anything other than the music anyway; the timing and the expression was so complicated it took up all of her brain power just to play it adequately, let alone outstandingly.

She could feel the gold locket cold against her warm skin as she battled through the piece, reminding her that even though Chris wasn't here anymore, it didn't mean that he wasn't with her. Jal had to stop herself from smiling – it would totally fuck up her recital if she did.

Thankfully, Jal wasn't playing the whole piece but a shortened arrangement, yet it was still around eighteen minutes long. Her new teacher could only extend his kindness to cut off eleven and a half minutes, but Jal's lungs were grateful for any time off right now. She felt like giving up then and there, but there were only a few more minutes to go, and she couldn't hear anymore whispering in the hall; Jal couldn't be sure, but hopefully her critics had finally shut up.

Xxx

Jal had been roped into tutoring someone for theory, who had apparently only just got into the college. She was miserable because she had been looking forward to getting a rare afternoon free to go home; sadly she called Dan to tell him and check that Jonah hadn't become unwell. He told her off for being paranoid, and despite Jal's protests, insisted on coming to see her in the concert that night. Sighing, she rounded the corner into the small classroom she'd been sent to. She froze as soon as she entered the boxy room, narrowing her eyes as she caught sight of the glossy blonde back-combed hair and the skin tight cashmere sweater.

"Shit, it's whores-R-us."

Jal glared at the girl furiously, slamming her books down on the wooden table. It was the bitch from the rehearsals. And now Jal had to spend an hour with her every week.

"Glad to meet you too. Failing theory, blockhead?"

The girl furrowed her brow, obviously shocked that Jal had finally spoken back to her.

"So you're Abigail?"

Jal glanced at her books, smirking as she read the girl's name off her files in thick, curly writing.

"I used to know someone called Abigail," Jal looked straight into her eyes, "complete dickhead. It must run in the name."

"It's rich coming from you, Jalander," Abigail stressed her full name, making Jal's skin crawl, "you've not exactly been the best behaved little girl ever, have you?"

Jal pulled the book open irritably, letting the heavy hardback cover crash against the old wooden table.

"You don't know anything about me."

"Everyone does."

"Do you really believe everything you read?"

"There must be some truth in it, otherwise no-one would care. You're like Z list."

"I prefer nonentity."

Abigail laughed for a second, not realising at first that Jal wasn't joking.

"So what's up with all this then, if it's not true? Do you not even have a kid?"

She spat the last word out like it was infectious, wanting to get rid of the plague.

"Yeah, I've got a baby boy."

Abigail seemed taken aback that she was so unashamed about it. It wasn't as if it was exactly a secret anyway.

"So where is he?"

"I've got a nanny."

"You can afford a nanny?"

"Savings. My dad wasn't exactly meaning me to spend it on nannies though."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a while, leafing through the theory textbooks, Jal occasionally picking up on some of the harder notes and timings and going through the stuff that Abigail clearly didn't understand. She held her locket in her now bandaged hand, rubbing her fingers over the gold metal as she glanced up at the clock. She wasn't going to be able to go home before the concert. It was a good thing she had a dress just in case in her locker.

"What's in your necklace?"

"Nothing."

Jal instinctively brought her locket closer to her, raising Abigail's suspicions more. As soon as Jal looked down at the book again and relaxed her hand, Abigail snatched the locket quickly out of her hand and flicked it open before Jal could stop her.

"Who's this?"

Jal hesitated for a moment, but she knew if she didn't tell Abigail now, it would be forced out later, probably in a much less pleasant way.

"He's my boyfr...my baby's dad."

"I thought you didn't know who that was."

"Don't believe everything you read in _Heat_ magazine." Jal reminded her, firmly taking her locket back, fastening it shut and lacing the thin gold chain around her neck so Abigail couldn't snatch it again.

"Right. So, where is he?" Abigail noticed Jal's awkwardness and the slightly higher pitch of her voice, "Did he dump you when he found out?"

"No."

"So where..."

"He died."

That shut her up. They spent the next thirty minutes of the lesson Abigail reading through her textbook embarrassed and Jal tuning up her clarinet and practising scales for the concert. It wasn't until Jal was finally alone that she vented her frustration, hitting her bandaged hand against the table.

"Fuck! Why the hell did I tell _her_ about Chris?"

Xxx

The January concert was about to begin. Maxxie had promised to come and see her and they were going to order a pizza afterwards at her new flat. Jal hadn't even heard from her dad or brothers for nearly two weeks; she assumed they were too busy promoting the new album. The only news from them she'd heard was that Lynton had started going out with the singer – which they left Jal to discover in the tabloids anyway. They'd made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with her since this scandal broke out. She bet Ronnie wasn't pleased that the girl was bedding his son rather than him. Jal doubted any of them would bother to call her to wish her luck, even though her dad had banged on about the concert as a reason to get rid of Jonah.

Dan entered the auditorium, with a firm grip around the handle of Jonah in his baby carrier. Jal ran over to them as soon as she saw him, conscious that if the other students caught sight of them, all hell would break loose, especially if they saw the fading scars of Jonah's stitches. They were barely visible anymore, but Jal was paranoid they would get noticed and she would be blamed for some terrible act of child cruelty. She didn't need any more enemies.

"Dan! You can't bring him here."

"Hey, why not?"

"Because, well..." Jal scrabbled for an excuse which didn't make her seem overly unreasonable, "the music will be too loud. I don't want him getting ill again."

Dan put Jonah and his carrier down on the seat beside him, and made Jal sit down next to the two of them.

"Jal, it will be fine. It'll be nice for him to hear his mum play anyway."

"I play to him!"

"_Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_ twelve times a day can get pretty boring, mate."

Jal smiled at Dan. He had become more of a friend in the past few days than she thought he would. He was great with Jonah – it made her feel guilty that she had initially ridiculed him for being a male nanny.

"Fine. But don't let any of those students get near him. They're vicious."

"Ahh, so that's what's bothering you," Dan slipped Jonah out of the carrier easily, even though it seemed to take Jal forever to just get the first strap undone, "Scared of rumours?"

Jal took Jonah from him, smiling as her baby's fingers wrapped around hers. She could tell he was beginning to put weight back on, finally.

"No," Jal glanced around the hall, noticing that she was definitely being watched by hundreds of eyes, "I'm just wary."

"Mmm hmm..."

Dan raised his eyebrow, twisting his face into an entirely comedic expression. He seemed to have a face of rubber, able to manipulate it into any shape he wanted. Dan could always cheer anybody up. It was something he was always able to do, ever since he was tiny.

Jal passed Jonah back to Dan as she was motioned to by the conductor to come backstage. Seeing all her fellow students gawping at them, who had gossiped and bitched about her, she bent over boldly and left a loud kiss on Jonah's forehead, and then on Dan's cheek.

"Wish me luck, Danny boy."

Grinning her face off, Jal flounced over to the conductor, relishing all of the students' gobsmacked faces as she strode past them.

Xxx

Jal was the last to perform.

She watched as the group who was onstage before her, a cello quintet, stood for their applause. Her heart was beating fast and her clarinet was shaking in her hands. Fuck, she'd played bigger gigs than this, played for harsher critics, had even played when she had the flu at a competition. And she'd won. Surely this would go smoothly; she just had to concentrate solely on Ognenovski's Concerto. If she didn't...

Jal held her locket in her right hand, and flipped it open to look inside. Strangely, it made her feel more confident. She gazed at the photo of Chris for a moment before reading his message over and over again.

_Yeses are good_.

Jal was jolted back to reality as the five cellists passed her, making their way off-stage. She fiddled hastily with the locket, trying to do it up around her neck, still holding her clarinet in her right hand. The head was announcing her name, her cue to come on, but Jal was still battling with the locket right up until the last minute. Finally, blowing hair out of her face, she stepped up to the music stand. The lights weren't so bright here and she could see the audience. Generally, she preferred it when she couldn't; there seemed to be less pressure somehow when she wasn't constantly reminded that she wasn't the only one who could hear her music.

For a second, she was distracted by the large wooden doors at the back of the hall opening, and Jal gulped as she saw who was entering the room. She didn't expect her dad to turn up – Jal wasn't even aware he cared that she was playing now she hadn't let him send away Jonah.

She lifted her clarinet to her lips and started her piece, trying not to focus on Ronnie. She forced herself to stare at the sheet music, and thankfully, even though the notes seemed to swim around her head, her fingers knew what she was supposed to be doing. Jal reasoned it must be because she'd practised too much. She thought of Chris and how he'd been the only of her friends ever to just sit with her and listen to her play, even he was only pretending to. It jerked her back to normality, and magically the music made sense again. It was a good thing, because the concerto was getting increasingly harder.

Sixteen minutes later Jal had reached the final few bars of the music; as she played the last few notes, she glanced into the audience, and she could see Maxxie, Dan and Jonah in the audience. She didn't bother trying to find her dad.

The last few notes finished, a wide smile spread across Jal's face for the first time for months. She had done it, and there had only been a few minor mistakes, which only the most trained player would ever recognise. It felt great, hearing applause again. Jal had never acknowledged herself as an attention seeker, but she liked the buzz she got when she'd nailed a piece and it seemed like no matter what anybody did or said, they couldn't take her music away from her. Nothing could take that moment of pure pride away, and Jal couldn't believe she had managed to nail the Ognenovski. She took her bow and left the stage, smiling as she thought of how she'd managed to wind up the students earlier, and how she'd managed to control her temper around them. She kept smiling even though she knew she had to face her dad, and G-d knows who he had brought with him.


	11. Operation Apathy

**OPERATION APATHY**

"Wait, Jal!"

Jal kept on walking, ignoring Abigail running after her.

"Please, stop. I just want...I want to-"

"You cow! I don't give a flying fuck what you want."

"No, please, I didn't mean-"

"Of course you didn't _mean _anything, but you still told your fricking friends about Chris anyway. I had to give up my afternoon with 'my brat' as you like to put it, to go through fucking polymeters with you. It's not exactly a difficult concept in terms of theory."

"I'm sorry!"

"I should fucking hope so."

Abigail stood in front of her meekly, Jal's furious eyes burning into her pale skin. Abigail didn't normally feel intimidated, but now she understood it was not fun to be on the receiving end of Jal's anger.

"I am honestly really sorry."

"You tell no-one about Chris, okay? I don't want you using my life as your own personal gossip column," Jal shrieked in frustration as she caught sight of a couple of photographers waiting for her dad outside the hall, "don't you understand what will happen if the press hear of this? I will not put up with being treated like some forlorn, love-lost leper. Unlike you, as you're so fucking pleased about, I have someone to look after now, and I am keeping him away from as much grief as I can."

Abigail froze, shell-shocked. She obviously hadn't expected quite this reaction.

"If I catch you one more time telling one of your stupid little fuckwit mates about this afternoon, I will skin you alive. And that is a promise."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Good."

Jal turned on her heel sharply away from Abigail towards the back door. She had to find Jonah and Maxxie and Dan now. She just wanted to go home and finally relax. She couldn't believe she'd been so foolish to tell Abigail about Chris – why did she even think she stupid idiot could keep her trap shut? And then she found her talking to all the other students backstage straight after the concert telling them that Jal actually wasn't a complete slut. Her 'brat's dad' had died. And then Abigail had launched into a discussion of Jal's performance, trying to speculate if she had been playing for 'her forever lost love'.

Jal was sick of all the rumours. She knew this was just going to bring a fresh round of cutting remarks or spiteful looks during lessons, the odd person having the audacity to come and insult her to her face.

But now Jal could only focus on getting out of the concert hall. She pushed her way through the doors, and found her dad waiting with Maxxie, Dan and Jonah.

Shit.

The cameramen were beginning to look hopeful too; it was obvious they wanted to get a picture of the whole family. This could be the latest instalment in the Fazer scandal - was one of these boys the dad?

Purposefully, Jal turned her back to the cameras, pulling on her hooded jacket which Maxxie had brought for her from his and James' flat: she had spent a few days there before finding the keys to hers. Now it was impossible for the press to get a clear picture of them all, and even if they tried, it would never be obvious it was Jal under the hood.

"So, Jalander..."

His slimy voice slid through the cold night air, the use of her full name making Jal want to screw up her face.

"Yes, Dad?"

Jal braced herself, adamant that she wouldn't let Ronnie get to her. She'd spent enough time trying to impress him, and Jal figured by now if he was interested he would have made an effort too. There was no point crying over spilt milk anymore.

"I wanted to say..."

Ronnie's voice trailed off, and he shook his head as if emptying all his thoughts out of his head.

"What?"

"You played well."

"Thanks."

"_Well?" Jal thought, "I was fucking brilliant, thanks very much."_

Still, at least he had bothered turning up.

"So how come you're here anyway?"

"Making sure that you're okay. And the..." Ronnie hesitated for a few seconds, as if he was regretting having to speak, "baby."

Jal scoffed, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

"As if, Dad. Come on, spill it. I've had enough of your shit."

Ronnie pulled her fiercely by the wrist away from Dan, Maxxie and Jonah. He seemed to have forgotten there were several cameras behind him.

Jal yelled out in protest as he wrenched her arm violently, jerking her whole body painfully across the pavement. She could tell there were some students still hanging around near the concert hall. Jal wondered if they were only still here to watch her; they had been interested enough earlier when she found Abigail telling them about Chris.

Ronnie pulled her up to him, scowling straight into her face as he spat his words out.

"You do _not_ talk to me like that in front of other people," Ronnie threw her hand back down, a sore red patch left where the blood had risen to the surface of Jal's skin, "Or the press. You may have fucked it up but I still have a career and a reputation to uphold."

"I haven't fucked it up."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I'm coping Dad. I've got my life sorted. Maybe not in the long term, but for now I haven't got any problems."

"You haven't got any problems? Haven't you seen the papers lately? You've brought trouble and shame to the company. I'm working double the amount, paying double the amount for good press because of you. You're not living in the same fucking world as the rest of us."

"That's all you care about isn't it? Your fucking brand. Ace and Lynton, you act like you care about them, but you don't at all do you? You don't care about them any more than you care about me."

"You bitch."

"Really mature, Dad."

"You think you're so mature then, do you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do actually. I've got my own flat; I'm looking after Jonah; I'm handling university. All on my own. I think I'm doing pretty well to be honest."

Ronnie started laughing. Jal couldn't work out why. What was so funny? Was there something going on behind her she couldn't see? Jal furrowed her brow in frustration, glaring at her dad whilst he continued to confuse her.

"You've got no idea have you?"

Jal frowned even more, detesting being patronised and being made to feel like some idiot.

"I know there's been money going into your account every week, Jal. I know you didn't find your flat yourself, or pay for it. Who do you think is doing all of this?"

Jal narrowed her eyes, aware that whatever she said, he would probably make her out to be an idiot.

"Could be Graham, Chris's dad. Maybe he cares about Jonah. Maybe he knows what it's like to go through what I have. He gets it."

"You seriously think that scumbag gives a shit what happens to you? He called round the house the day you left Bristol. Wanted to apologise for skipping out on you at Christmas. Left some cash. Fifty quid. That wouldn't even last you a week with a kid. He obviously thinks that's all you're worth. And his fucking grandson."

"That's _your_ grandson you're talking about."

Ronnie stopped and glanced back at Jonah sleeping in his pram, its hood pulled over his tiny, wrapped up body. It looked as if he had ten baby-grows on. But even though it seemed like her dad was actually thinking about Jonah calmly for once, Jal couldn't let it rest.

"Why are you telling me all this?" she spoke softly, tired of having arguments with Ronnie and sick of the anger and frustration that she had always walked away with before, "So I made a mistake. I thought that someone cared about me when they didn't. But I've been making that mistake for years, Dad. And I'm too tired to work out your stupid little mind games. I don't know where all this money is coming from and frankly at the moment I don't care. I need it. It doesn't matter where it comes from."

"So it wouldn't make a difference if someone you hated was funding your life?"

"It's not exactly blood money."

"So it wouldn't make an inch of difference if I was your bank account? If your proud independent, ignorant little existence was actually all mine?"

"You're paying for..."

"Yes, I'm fucking paying. I thought you had brains. I paid enough for them already."

She had known what was going on really, she'd questioned Graham for a long time anyway, but Jal didn't want to have to face up to the truth. She wanted to drag out her ignorant bliss for as long as she could, but she knew that Ronnie was intent on pulling time away from her.

"So why are you still paying now then, if you hate funding me so much?"

"Do you think I have a choice? I'm not having my kid running around looking like some disadvantaged loser. You represent me."

"Nothing to do with _love_ then? Or even guilt? Just your fucking brand again."

"You'd understand it if you knew what it was like when I grew up."

Jal laughed bitterly, zipping her jacket up angrily as the wind blew fiercely in their faces.

"I do, Dad. I remember? You told me when I already had far too much to handle. I know all about your little tragedy, about your stupid sister. I'm not interested. I know you don't like it, not being adored, not being the centre of attention anymore: that's why you hated Chris."

"No, I hated Chris because he fucked your life up."

"_You _fucked my life up Dad. And now I've got a new centre of attention again and it isn't ever going to change, however much you try and feed yourself back in with the money. And thank you, for the cash, because I need it, but I can't focus on you anymore. I'm not Ace or Lynton. I'm not capable of keeping my mind on the rap or the cash and the fame."

She walked away from Ronnie slowly, expecting him to shout at her, demanding her attention to return to him. But he wasn't arguing with her, he wasn't throwing insults in her face, trying to make her fall down or crumble or whatever it was he wanted out of her. And then Jal realised. He wasn't going to shout anything at her when she was over a metre away. There were cameras, journalists, and Ronnie had to protect his brand. Fuck him. She could choose what she wanted to remember and ignore in life herself. She got back to the boys, taking over Jonah's pram and leading the way back to the flat.

"Pizza, Max?"

Jal smiled at her friend, glad that they had waited for her instead of leaving; Dan did have a key, after all.

It was time to go home, finally.


	12. Knickerbocker Glory

**KNICKERBOCKER GLORY**

_The light flickered on, reflecting off the grey worktops. It seemed so empty without anyone inside it. Well, without one particular person there._

_Chris undid his tie, dropping it on the kitchen surface before pouring a glass of water. He knocked on Cassie's door, peeking his head round to check if she was okay, but she was out. Probably with one of her new boyfriends...or girlfriends. Chris had _absolutely no problem_ with polygamous relationships, but he knew that this new Cassie wasn't right. She was vicious sometimes, saying things which would only upset Jal whilst she was here, and Chris didn't want Jal to stay away much longer. He'd only just managed to get her back after Angie and he wanted it to go back to normal. Like when they used to play board games on the sofa but never even lasted beyond the third round before they couldn't keep their hands off each-other. _

_Chris wished that he could turn back time, but he knew he couldn't – he'd wished so hard already ever since Peter died, that his faith, even though it was still there, wasn't quite as strong. One way or another, he knew that unless he acquired a TARDIS anytime soon, he was stuck in this situation with Cassie, and he didn't know how to get her out of it. _

_Sighing, Chris collapsed on the sofa. There was a glass of vodka on the table in front of him, left from last night. Chris picked it up and dipped his finger in it, swirling the water around into a whirlpool until the liquid spilled over the edges down the side of the glass. The alcohol ran down his hand, the wet tracks reminding him of Jal's tears a few weeks ago. _

_He had hated himself for making her cry. But he liked being able to clean her up too, to look after her. He hadn't really ever looked after anyone before, not even himself. Still, Chris wanted the fun Jal back, the one who danced sexily with randoms at parties and would drink beer even when it was flat and warm in the early morning. But she had disappeared since Cassie's housewarming party – he had ruined it. _

_In fact, Jal had barely drunk anything last night. Chris's head was still sore from this morning's hangover. _

_Well, Jal had always been more sensible. She had school today after all. And Chris knew that she did extra clarinet practice on Thursdays. He had memorised her timetable so he knew exactly where and when he could find her. But at this time, Jal wasn't doing anything. So why wasn't she here? _

_Chris liked that Jal always came to his flat instead of going home or to Michelle's house when she didn't have anything to do. _

_Or at least, she usually did._

_Chris necked the vodka, sick of it making him think about Jal being missing. He thought he'd managed to make everything better again, but every day he began to doubt it more. He still kept the drawing that she'd left for him then; it reminded him that she would always be there for him, holding his hand. He wasn't alone. But right now, by himself in the flat, Chris couldn't help but think maybe she had finally realised she was too good for him. Honestly, why was someone like Jal, who had enough money and enough brains to do whatever she ever wanted, with him? He had no qualifications, he had no money and he had no tact. _

_Chris hoped more than anything else that it was for love._

_He didn't want her to leave him, because since he had gotten together with Jal, somehow opportunities created themselves: he had got a job; he had found a flat; he had made plans. And when she left him for that one horrible week after Angie, absolutely everything had turned to shit. Sometimes Chris took it as proof that she was his angel – when she was around, nothing bad happened. _

_He lay back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. Bored, he let his mind wander, but within ten minutes Chris was asleep._

_He woke up in a dark room, a blanket pulled over him. Bewildered, Chris got up, wondering who had turned the lights off. Cassie still wasn't home. There was no-one in his room. He went to the bathroom, but it was locked. He could hear someone crying inside, a girl crying. Maybe it was Cassie. Jal didn't ever cry and she had told him that she wouldn't cry again after he won her back. Anyway, Chris didn't like seeing her upset. It was unnatural for her. _

"_Hello? Cass, is that you?"_

_Chris knocked tentatively on the door._

"_Has anything happened?"_

_No answer._

"_Has Sid done something?"_

_The crying had stopped, but Chris could hear something plastic rustling and zips being done up in the silence, as if she was trying to hide something. Why would Cassie be so secretive in her own bathroom?_

_The door suddenly opened a fraction, a small crack of light shining through, glowing among the darkness._

_Chris squeezed through, not wanting to open the door much more in case it upset Cassie in some way. He didn't know why it would, but fuck, women are weird._

"_Are you alright Ca-?"_

_Chris stopped midsentence – instead of a blonde fluffy head, he faced dripping wet, thick, dark hair. She turned, and Chris could see her mascara smudged all over her face, her body shivering in his old threadbare towel on the cold floor._

"_Hey, Jalapeno, what's up?"_

_She didn't answer. Jal just stared at him, her lips cracked and pale from the cold and her eyes glistening with tears. _

_He sat down next to her on the tiles, tiny goosebumps rising on his skin as the puddles of water soaked through his clothes. Chris hugged her, not minding as Jal's wet body sucked the heat out of him and made him shiver as well. Fat drops of water dropped from her hair onto his arm and left dark patches on his shirt. Chris smiled as he thought of how he wouldn't have to wash it anymore. _

"_What's the matter, babe?"_

_Jal sniffed loudly, her whimpers echoing around the cramped bathroom like Frisbees. _

_Chris didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to react to this silent Jal. Normally when she was upset or angry she would shout at him or accuse him of something with that scarily furious glint in her eyes, but it seemed like all the light in her had gone out. _

_Chris teased the hair plastered to her face out of the way and kissed her on the cheek._

"_I thought you said you weren't going to cry again."_

_Sniff._

"_You can tell me what's wrong. I'll make it better, Jal. Just tell me how."_

"_You can't, Chris. Not this time."_

_Chris frowned, watching her miserable face. He hauled her upwards, dragged her into his bedroom and ran his fingers through her hair because he didn't have a brush. Chris found some baby wipes in Cassie's room and cleaned her face, purging all the ruined make up from her skin. He fetched another towel from his wardrobe and put it on top of her head so she could dry her hair. She remained motionless, like a rag doll, letting him pick her up and put her down as if she had no bones. So Chris dried her and dressed Jal in his own clothes, pulling her arms through his yellow t-shirt and giving her a pair of his boxers to put on. _

_Jal looked so small, his clothes swamping her and her damp hair falling in her face. She sat on the sofa, huddled into the corner clutching her bag and her clarinet. Chris wanted to know why she was being so possessive, but he guessed it might not be such a good idea to push her when she was like this. _

_He got a glass out of the cupboard and opened the fridge. There was a bar of milk chocolate, banana flavoured milk, vanilla ice cream, golden syrup, half a tin of custard (Cassie had attempted to make custard bombs the day before) and three cherries. Jal had bought him some butter, bread and strawberries but he wasn't into necessities. _

_He grabbed everything except the bread and butter and stuck them in a liquidiser. He used it all the time now, having found it when he moved in left from the last owner. He whizzed it all up. The ice cream stuck in lumps, so he took some of it out and scooped it into the bottom of the glass. Chris poured everything else on top and cracked the chocolate into pieces._

"_Fantastico!"_

_Finally, Jal smiled at his ridiculously dismal fake Italian accent. Sticking two straws in the glass, he brought it over to her on the sofa and made her sip it. _

"_Fuck Chris! How much sugar have you put in here?"_

"_A lot."_

_Jal raised her eyebrow – Chris hoped his Jal was coming back._

"_I'd say more than a lot Chris."_

_Chris sipped the drink too, already sucking on a square of chocolate._

"_Fuck! That really is sweet."_

"_See!"_

"_Think I could sell it? To those hyperactive little twerps who run around the park all night? I bet this would get them going more than Red Bull."_

"_I don't think they're on Red Bull, Chris."_

"_That's not the point. I could market it as 'Miles' Knickerbocker Glory". Think they'd swing for it?"_

"_Sure they would."_

_Jal's sarcasm had returned. She was finally home._

"_They would!" _

_Jal laughed, sucking the milky yellow mixture through the straw and cringing as the cold ice cream froze her brain. _

_Chris kissed her gently to make it better, and soon they found themselves in his bedroom again._

_They spent the night pressed up against each-other, Chris's arms moulded around Jal to shield her from the bad stuff she was worried about. But he couldn't make it go away; Jal still remembered her bag even when he was protecting her._

_Xxx_

_The next day, Jal left the flat at nine forty five. She was late for college already and there wasn't time to go home and change her clothes. Jal was wearing Chris's t-shirt and his jeans, a makeshift belt trying to hold them up just below her hips. It was the same top he had worn everyday for three weeks last year, so there was no escape – it would be obvious why she was late...and the teachers would guess too. Everyone was going to work out what was going on between them. Even though most of their friends knew already, she and Chris hadn't become playground gossip yet, but now Jal had no choice. _

_She still held her bag close to her, wishing that it was in fact only a bag she had found in the street and wasn't actually hers at all, including its contents._

_Stopping briefly by a bin, Jal knew she had to get rid of them. Checking no-one could see, Jal nervously pulled out a plastic bag into which she had stuffed the three white sticks quickly in the bathroom when Chris was knocking on the door. _

_Shit!_

_Three positive tests. Now there was no avoiding it. There was no way the one she took two weeks ago in her bathroom (which she'd been trying not to think about) was wrong. She was definitely p..._

_Jal couldn't even make herself think it._

_Fuck it!_

_Jal threw the bag into the bin hurriedly, running to the school entrance as she spied the empty grounds and corridors. Time for lessons...and coming out._

_Jal didn't realise there were only two sticks in the bag._

_Xxx_

_Cassie frowned. She didn't remember buying this. It looked like a big flattened pen, caught between the pipes and the tiled wall. _

_Cassie picked up the stick, cocking her head as she saw the text on it._

"_Chris? Was Jal here yesterday?"_

_She looked at it again, checking that she'd read the word right._

_Pregnant._

_She smiled as she thought of Reuben, but then she became sad again as she thought of Sid and Michelle and how they'd fucked everything up. _

_Finally, Chris answered._

"_Yeah, has she left something?"_

_Even though she was craving revenge and wanted everyone to hurt as much as she did, Cassie still had one tiny ounce of tact left in her._

"_Just wondering, monkey."_

I'll sort it out, _Cassie thought; _I can keep the secret too.

_Cassie opened the small grimy window, the glass creaking as the moss around the edges was pushed out of the way. Cassie threw the test out into the sky, watching to see if it landed far enough away._

_As it flew through the air, she wondered if Jal would tell Chris or whether she would keep it a secret. Cassie liked knowing all the secrets, even though they weren't fun ones which you could spill when you got too bored of them. They were the kind of secrets which change everything no matter what happens. _

_Cassie watched it land near the opposite estate. No-one could trace it back to them now. _

_Mission accomplished._

_She turned her mind to the future, and how to keep it safe for Jal and the writing on the test. _

"_Chris? Have you taken your pill?"_


	13. Spitting Secrets

**SPITTING SECRETS**

Saturday 18th April 2009.

Jal, Dan and Maxxie sat on the sofa watching TV.

Jal was exhausted – it was the first time in weeks she hadn't spent the whole day either chained to the table writing essays and composing music or shut up in her room playing the clarinet.

She looked at Maxxie on her left, pondering how much time he spent at her flat these days. Well, her and Dan's flat; now he paid half the rent and lived in with her and Jonah permanently. Jal's dad had cut her cash by half, but Jal had prepared for that after the concert.

A loud cry cut through the TV programme, jolting the three of them out of their lazy slump on the sofa. Dan began to get up, but Jal pulled him back down, glad to get some relief from the dismal 'celebrity' ice skating on ITV's latest shot at reality television.

"It's alright Dan, I'll get him."

Jal groaned as she hauled herself upwards, laughing as Maxxie kicked her on the bottom to give her a hand. Rubbing her sore skin through her jeans, she dragged her feet to the kitchen to fetch a bottle. It hadn't been possible not to use them with university, even though the nurse at the hospital had droned on excessively about the benefits to Jonah if she breastfed.

Fuck the hospital anyway. Jal wanted to forget the past.

She opened her bedroom door, flicking on the light as she walked towards Jonah's cot. His crying got louder as the shock of the light hit him, Jal frowning as the unpleasant noise filled her ears.

"Oi, Joe! Quieten down babe, yeah?"

She tickled him under his chin and lifted him up, settling Jonah in her arms as she fumbled with the bottle.

"There we are!"

Jal smiled as Jonah stopped crying and began to drink the milk. She rocked him as she walked back into the lounge, easing the door back open with her elbow.

_What the fuck?_

Jal's mouth fell open as she caught sight of Maxxie and Dan. They seemed to be surgically attached to each-other, their lips and torsos pressed together like magnets.

Jonah began to whimper as Jal suddenly froze, shell-shocked.

Immediately, Dan and Maxxie broke apart, wiping their mouths guiltily and shifting uncomfortably. Dan tried to get up to take Jonah off her but Jal dodged out of the way quickly to avoid him; her expression made it obvious to them she was seriously pissed off. Dan collapsed onto the sofa nervously next to Maxxie, purposefully sitting right up next to him. They looked like two naughty schoolboys waiting to be told off by their headmistress; in fact, they looked awfully like Chris when she caught him with Angie.

The memory made her anger flare up again and she walked in front of them, rocking Jonah probably slightly too violently for it to be healthy due to her temper.

"How long has this been going on for?"

They looked at each-other again – Jal sighed infuriated – why did they have to keep fucking looking at each-other the whole time when she was trying to talk to them? She couldn't bear it when people tried to avoid her and kept secrets. She hated secrets now; they'd only ever brought her grief. If there was one thing Jal demanded of her friends since Christmas, it was honesty.

"Will you just fucking answer me?"

"Jal," Dan interrupted shakily, "you can't swear around J-"

"I can say what I fucking want in my own flat, thanks very much."

"It's Dan's flat too, Jal," Maxxie spoke up now, squeezing Dan's hand as he spoke, "and we've got a right just as much as you do to do what we want."

"You lied to me! And are you lying to James, Max? Does he even know about this?"

"He wouldn't care. He spends all his time at his new friends' houses now. He's moved on from shagging Arts students."

"That's an excuse Max?" Jal looked into his eyes and they were just as icy as she felt. "This isn't you! The Maxxie I know would never cheat without feeling guilty. After Russia you couldn't even swallow the guilt for a week before it all came out, could you?"

Jal shook her head, propping Jonah up in the crook of her arm again, "What's happened Max?"

"Shit, Jal. Shit happens."

He stood up leaving Dan sitting by himself, not knowing entirely what was going on.

"You might forget, but we all lost Chris. We all grieved like you, even if we managed to let it go before you did."

Jal didn't like being patronised about Chris; it still felt like she would never get over his death completely. But she couldn't avoid Maxxie's angry eyes concentrating on her own. What had she done to make him be like this? It was him who had sneaked behind her back, with someone she thought she could trust. But her thought process was halted suddenly as Maxxie voice cut through the air.

"And then you called me the week before Christmas."

He walked over to Jal and Jonah, stopping for a minute to watch him and for a minute, the room was silent as she stared at Max, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. Jal thought Maxxie had calmed down, but then he began to speak bitterly again. This new, angry Maxxie almost scared her.

"It was the last day before term ended and I was meant to perform. But I came for you. No-one had heard from you in months, but I found you, I didn't let it matter that you'd lied to everyone, I took you to hospital, and I held your hand."

Jal hugged Jonah to her tighter, putting the empty bottle down on top the TV next to her. She didn't want to listen to Maxxie but she couldn't bring herself to tell him to be quiet.

"And the night Jonah haemorrhaged, I got a call. I lost my part, the part I'd spent months auditioning and rehearsing for."

"I'm sorry, Maxxie. You don't understand how diffi-"

"You're always sorry. You still don't get it, do you? You think that everyone is being honest with you and you're behaving like me and Dan is a big deal but..." Dan pulled him back down to the sofa, almost as if he was trying to restrain Maxxie, "Look, Chris didn't tell you what was wrong with him; Michelle's been drinking every night because of exam stress for the past three months; Cassie's had a relapse since Sid's buggered off to Manchester to do some IT course. We're all too scared to tell you anything these days Jal. You react to these things badly."

"I've always been around for everybody since primary school. Nothing's changed."

"Nothing's the same anymore Jal."

She glanced down at Jonah, already realising how much he'd grown in the past few months and how much they'd been through.

Jal turned around swiftly back into her room and dressed Jonah in his coat and yellow socks. Then she strode back out into the lounge again, and ignoring an apologetic Dan and sulky Maxxie, settled him in the pushchair. Throwing on her own coat quickly, she stopped for a second before she opened the door.

"You don't come here again, Max," he looked surprised, he didn't think she'd have the guts to alienate her only friend from her old life who lived anywhere near, "I'll be back in an hour. Don't bother staying until I get back, okay?"

The door slammed, and Jal was gone.


	14. Ultimatum Uno

**ULTIMATUM UNO**

"What's up, Dan?"

Jal watched him out of the corner of her eye, studying his nervous and irritated demeanour. He ignored her, again, despite the fact she had woken Jonah up to defy his stupid precious routine.

"Dan!"

He couldn't ignore her shouting at the top of her voice. If there was anything Dan hated, it was noise. It was quite surprising he lived with a clarinettist, actually.

But there was no reaction.

Fuck it.

Jal sighed angrily as she tipped the bottle so Jonah could drink his milk. She'd been trying to start him onto some solids, but so far, Jal hadn't been overly successful.

Maybe she could get his attention this way?

"Dan? Has Jonah had any solids today while I was at uni?"

Finally, he turned towards her.

"Mushed up baby cereal."

Jal pulled a face, realising that maybe Jonah wasn't slow but just smart.

Dan scowled at her reaction and stormed off sulkily.

"Hey!" Jal yelled at him, struggling to get up quickly with Jonah in her arms, "What's all this about? You've been like this all week."

"None of your business, alright?"

"No, it's not alright, Dan! It is my business when we're living together and your bad mood is making it unbearable. Is there something wrong, 'cause if you need help with something, I've saved loads with only paying half the rent; I can manage it for a few months."

Dan ran his hand through his messy brown hair, a look of complete disbelief on his face.

"I'm fine with the cash. You're paying me anyway remember? I don't want to be relying on you even more."

"I don't mind," Jal felt nervous, speaking timidly. She hadn't seen Dan so argumentative before. "You're my friend, aren't you?"

Dan was quiet, avoiding her eye contact.

"Dan?" her voice shook, "We are friends, right? I thought we were mates..."

Guiltily, Dan brought himself to look at her and Jonah.

"Maxxie's given me an ultimatum."

"What?"

"He says it's you or him. He's really pissed off about your react-"

"My reaction was to the secrecy, not the snogging!"

"I know, Jal, but it's not going into his head."

Jal felt her fingers shaking, and had to strengthen her grip on Jonah so she didn't drop him. He was watching her and Dan, his big blue eyes gazing at Jal's expression. Sometimes it unnerved her how aware he was of what was going on these days. Jonah began to clutch at her shirt collar, obviously wanting to stop her from getting upset. Jal took his hand off her shirt and held it, trying to stop herself from becoming frustrated. She tried to focus on Jonah, and balancing him on her hip now he could sit up with some support.

"So...who have you chosen? Maxxie?"

Dan nodded guiltily.

"It's not that I don't like you, or Jonah, it's just that I haven't met a guy like Maxxie for a long time. He gets me."

Jal bit her lip, not wanting to cry, especially in front of Jonah. She hadn't realised how much Dan's friendship meant to her.

"I think he's my Chris."

Jal looked up at him, surprised he'd mentioned Chris. She hadn't really expected Dan to bring him up because she didn't realise how much he knew. Either Maxxie had told him, or he'd read it in the tabloids like the rest of the nation.

She rubbed Jonah's back as Dan explained more about his choice, hearing but not fully listening. He was going to move out the next day but was still paying the rent for the month. He wasn't going to be looking after Jonah, not even until she'd found someone else. She had no idea what had happened to James.

Jal couldn't believe Maxxie was being so possessive. If anything, he'd been the most understanding and kind of her friends in the past.

Maybe he was right.

Shit happens.

Jal sat on her bed, Jonah in front of her. She grinned as he rolled onto his back and stretched his legs. She tickled his tummy as he smiled happily back at her, his eyes sparkling with cheekiness.

He reminded Jal more of Chris every day.

"Well Joe," Jal told Jonah, "looks like it's just going to be me and you from now on."


	15. Cider With Rosie

**CIDER WITH ROSIE**

She frowned, cocking her head as she listened to his cold blonde voice.

"Doesn't sound like you, Max."

"Drunkard doesn't sound like you either."

Michelle looked at the empty bottle in her hand, swirling it around even though there wasn't any alcohol in it.

She'd lost weight. Michelle figured it was due to rarely eating solids and living on a diet of vodka. Or tequila, cider, whisky, wine and beer. Even alcopops. In fact, anything with the word "alcohol" listed on its ingredients list.

Michelle put the phone down without saying goodbye.

Maxxie had become a complete dickhead since he fell out with Jal.

She caught sight of her books and thesis drafts sprawled across the floor. It made her feel sick. That was the problem with living on campus – the rooms were so small there was no way to escape your mess. There was no way to not be messy when you only had one small cupboard and six suitcases of clothes, shoes, make-up and hair products.

She knew she had to get writing on this thesis. She'd been out partying every night over the past few weeks with her friends but now they'd had enough. Apparently they needed to get their work done and catch up on their sleep. Her boyfriend was trying to get her to calm down because he thought she drank too much and worked too little. Michelle knew deep down she was, but she didn't let herself think about it.

She wanted her old friends back.

Even Tony, despite the fact they had parted rather nastily after New Year.

She held the phone in her hand, expecting it to ring suddenly and it would be Jal on the other end of the line, or Maxxie, or even Anwar.

Hastily, she picked up her Spanish books, tapes and (lack of) written work and shoved them into a pink cardboard folder. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Wrong.

Michelle reached under her bed and scrabbled around for a drink. There were tons of clothes and books underneath it, but no drinks. There weren't even empty bottles or cans – she made sure she got rid of them in case someone came into her room.

Shit.

Xxx

"Want an Easter egg?"

Michelle gazed at the huge box, trying to read the text on it through her bleary sight.

"Fuck off," she muttered groggily, "I'm sleeping. Bloody slag. Can't keep your knickers on."

She heard a scoff, and a laugh. She didn't expect that.

"It's rich coming from you 'Chelle. We both know you're not the Virgin Mary. You're up to a lot worse, by the look of it."

Michelle groaned, remembering all the bottles and tab ends she'd left lying around last night.

"Shut up. How did you get in anyway?"

"You left the door open. You're not difficult to find, 'Chelle. I've heard a lot of gossip about you already and I've only been in the region for an hour."

Michelle grunted sleepily and rolled over onto her front, trying to block out the light. It was giving her a headache.

"Where's kid?"

"Oh, you mean Jonah?"

"Urgh."

"Oi, he's not that ugly!"

Michelle smiled and tried to pull herself up, brushing her unkempt hair out of her face.

"What have you done with him?"

"Left him outside Pizza Hut with the pigeons," Jal whispered mischievously, "We'll just have to hope he's still there when I go back."

"What the fuck!" Michelle was too tired to distinguish between reality and fiction, "Shit, you're the worst mother I've ever seen."

"I'm joking 'Chelle, he's with Ace. We're up in York for this music event tonight. My dad says we all have to go, even me. Apparently I'm good press these days, now the whole Chris thing got spilled three weeks ago."

"Oh, yeah. It was in_ Grazia_."

"It was in everything!"

Michelle watched Jal's face, expecting her to clam up and go into one of her moods again after remembering the trouble with her so-called 'friends' at university, the press and Chris. But nothing. Maybe Jal had calmed down.

Jal sat down on the end of her bed, folding her legs underneath her as she sat down.

"So what's up, 'Chelle?"

"What do you mean, 'what's up'?"

Jal arched her left eyebrow, instantly making Michelle feel like an idiot for trying to act nonchalant.

"Don't lie to me. I'm not stupid."

Michelle's skin crawled as she thought of all the drinking she'd done last night.

"Michelle! Will you concentrate?"

Jal hit her on the arm impatiently to wake her up.

"There's nothing wrong with me!"

"So you're telling me there's nothing wrong with all these bottles on the floor? There's Babycham over there, for G-d's sake. Who the fuck drinks Babycham?"

"It was reduced."

"So you're buying drinks you don't like just because they're a few pounds cheaper?"

"I happen to like pear, actually."

Michelle was getting defensive. Just like Jal, she didn't like to be criticised.

"And there is nothing wrong with me, Jal. Just because you don't know what university's meant to be like, because you're up to your elbows in dirty nappies, doesn't mean everyone else has to sit at home teetotal reading the _Mothercare_ catalogue."

Jal sighed, holding her head in her hands.

"Look 'Chelle. I'm not trying to nag you and stop you from enjoying yourself, but I haven't seen you in months. And I liked it better before."

Michelle sniffed, avoiding Jal's eye contact. Being the stubborn, problematic one wasn't as fun as she had thought.

"You're not here for a music thing, are you? Has my mum sent you?"

Jal hesitated, and Michelle knew immediately she was right.

"Yes. But we are going to a charity concert in Manchester; it was just a few extra hours on the coach to come here. And your mum only rang me because she was worried when she saw you last week."

Michelle felt miserable, and shivered as Jal leaned closer to her and gave her a hug.

"Come on 'Chelle. We'll get this sorted out, yeah?"

Having a problem was crap, Michelle decided. If she was truly honest, Michelle knew that she had to sort herself out now.

"Anyway," Jal grinned, "it's time for some breakfast. And I think that chocolate would be perfect."

She reached behind her and picked up the massive red box.

"It's your favourite...."

Now Michelle couldn't help but grin back. Chocolate for breakfast really was perfect.

"Love you Jal."

"Love you too, 'Chelle."


	16. Buzzing Flies

**BUZZING FLIES**

The lights were flashing in her face and she could barely hear herself think. Thousands of questions were being thrown at her, and even though Ronnie, Ace and Lynton were revelling in the limelight, batting away the comments and questions as if it were a tennis match, Jal couldn't hack it.

"Come on, Jal," Ace whispered in her ear. It was a miracle Jal managed to hear him at all, "don't be so radgy, just give 'em what they want."

"I'm not being radgy," she replied angrily, "and why should I talk to them about Chris anyway? It's none of their business."

"It's everyone's business, Jal."

Jal wanted to sigh, but she knew she couldn't; firstly, her dad would bollock her, and secondly, the press would bollock her, because they would accuse her of being some soppy, grieving, heartbroken widow. Even if she was one, Jal didn't want the press to get anything blown out of proportion yet again.

"Jal! Have you been to Chris's grave since his funeral?"

"Over here! Has the baby inherited his disorder?"

"Can you cope with the kid without him?"

_For fuck's sake_, Jal thought, _don't you have any better questions than this? It's your fucking job._

But Jal had to keep smiling. The concert started in twenty minutes; they couldn't stay out here for too long, could they?

"There's nothing wrong with me, I'm not miserable, the baby's fine and yes, I'm coping at university."

Jal hoped that this would shut them up, but now she'd finally spoken, the paparazzi just got worse. Suddenly, they all seemed to rush over to her even more intensely than before, and Jal wished she'd kept her trap shut. It was like being surrounded by bees buzzing in her ears, constantly demanding her attention.

She felt uncomfortable in the dress. Her dad had got some stylist to pick it, and it wasn't the sort of thing she'd ever pick herself. Sure, there wasn't anything wrong with pale pink silk, but it just wasn't _her_. It was almost too smart, too considered, for her to wear it. And her hair! She'd been forced to spend hours with the hairdresser trying to curl it, pinning stupid little flower clips into her scalp. Jal felt like a five year old, not an eighteen year old.

The photographers crowded in more, the television cameras directed at her. She had never wanted her dad to come and take away all the attention more, but he wasn't going to come. It was part of his plan. Now she was a sob story, the underdog which his target demographics could sympathise with and fall in love with, she was publicising gold for his brand. And publicising gold soon turned into real gold.

It was boiling, even though it was only April and it was beginning to rain. The air was so humid, crammed between all the crowded bodies pushing towards Jal, she could barely breathe. Jal felt so ridiculous, so exhausted and so light-headed that it took all she had to stay standing up straight. She just wanted to go home, sleep and wake up in the morning and find Jonah. Sometimes it seemed like he was the only thing which kept her going now Chris was gone. Which Chris wasn't, Jal corrected herself, because she had Jonah. Her thought process had become more and more confusing.

The buzzing got louder and the air got heavier. Now everyone was shouting at her, but she couldn't tell if it was because they wanted her to go inside for the concert or to answer their questions. She felt the flashing go completely crazy until it was almost a constant white light shining at her, making her head spin. Jal finally felt her knees buckle, but she didn't stay conscious to feel the wet rain drip on her as she hit the sodden carpeted path.

Xxx

Shit!

Jal stared at the newspaper headline, cringing as she read the article and the captions underneath the photographs.

Fuck, she'd made an idiot of herself again. As if when they found out about Chris wasn't embarrassing enough.

And now she was stuck back in Bristol. They'd travelled through the night. Jal wouldn't have agreed if she had been awake - she had planned to go back to York with Jonah to see Michelle again. But no, her dad had dragged her home before she could refuse.

He was happy. He didn't care that they'd missed the concert, as long as the press saw he had chucked an expensive cheque at the charity ambassadors. Ronnie wasn't even concerned that she'd passed out, but was delighted with the exposure the brand got because of it. He had even paid for a new nanny since all the gossip about Chris had come out, and now he had bought a whole load of designer baby wear for Jonah. It wasn't because Ronnie cared much for either of them, but because, as Ronnie had put it himself, they were 'representing the family brand'.

Family.

It made Jal laugh.

Yeah, because family is about buying people, manipulating them so they can't refuse to do what _you_ want to make _you_ into a success, even if it means making their life difficult.

And now he was pleased that Jal had collapsed in front of all the paparazzi and celebrities. Still, at least he wasn't hunting her down to play tricks or to try and blackmail her into giving Jonah up. Ronnie had got used to the idea Jonah wasn't going anywhere.

Jal groaned again as she re-read the page.

She darted downstairs to the kitchen, ignoring her brothers' stares as she searched through the papers, frantically trying to find one which she wasn't on the front cover of.

"Why do we only buy fucking tabloids?"

Ace and Lynton seemed shocked by her frustration, which confused Jal until she realised they had Jonah with them.

"His first word will be 'fuck' at this rate, Jal."

"Shut up Lynton."

Jal sat down next to them, burying her head in her arms as she flopped onto the table.

"How do I get myself in these situations?"

No answer.

After a good few minutes, she eventually heard Ace clearing his throat as Jonah began to whimper.

"Pass him here," Jal sighed as Ace looked at her anxiously, "come on, Joe, we don't need any hysterics today."

"Jal, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly settled, Ace, alright?"

"Well, it's just that...with Chris and last night and everything..."

"Settled people don't mutter about the dead waking up when they're unconscious," Lynton interrupted, "what's going on Jal?"

"Nothing! I'm just obviously..."

"Not over it." Ronnie stood in the doorway. "You're not over Chris, are you Jal?"

"Do you expect me to be? He only died a few months ago."

"Nearly a year ago, Jal."

A year. It didn't seem like it was that long ago, like she'd managed to survive a whole year without him.

"So what? Why do you care anyway? All of this is fantastic for your press coverage. I'm like one of those bloody Bassett hounds, loved for being miserable."

"You're miserable?" Ace asked.

"No, I'm not fucking miserable, I'm just trying to prove a poin-"

"Don't swear around the fucking baby, Jal!"

Jal shrieked at her father's criticism, wishing she had Chris with her to argue her side. But of course, if Chris were here, there wouldn't be a side to argue.

"I've had your mother on the phone."

Ace and Lynton looked hopeful, but Jal dreaded what Ronnie would say next.

"She wants you to take the baby to see her when you go back to London. She's in Finchley now."

"I won't go."

"She wants to talk to you about Chris."

"I'm not talking to Mum about Chris, or Jonah. She shouldn't have walked if she was interested in me."

"You owe h-"

"I owe her nothing, Dad."

Jal stood up sharply and carried Jonah to her bedroom, snatching some of the tabloids on her way out of the kitchen.

She couldn't believe what was happening, and what had happened.

Glancing at the highlighted quotes, she bit her lip so hard it began to bleed.

"_Come back, Chris. I need you. I didn't mean for everything to turn out this way. Just wake up for me and Joe."_

There were fucking psychologists commenting on it, for fuck's sake! Apparently, Jal needed closure, therapy, anti-depressants and a new sex life. This was the reason she hated tabloids. Now everybody had a right to hold an opinion about her, whether they knew the full story or not. But mostly, she hated herself. Why couldn't she control herself enough to get through one night?


	17. Railroad Blues

**RAILROAD BLUES**

He caught her attention on the train. She'd been avoiding all the other passengers miserably since she boarded, not wanting to attract any attention.

But this man seemed familiar. Jal could only see him in profile because she was sitting on the opposite aisle, but somehow she recognised him. She couldn't help staring. She watched his wrinkled skin lighten over his knuckles as he stretched when he gripped his suitcase, and how he checked his watch every seven minutes exactly. Jal tried to see the other side of his face so she could try and work out what his name was, if she could remember it, but then he turned round quickly; Jal, embarrassed by his eye contact, looked away sharply.

Jal focussed on Jonah. She realised it must be the first time he'd ever been on a proper train, deciding the Tube didn't count. She wondered if he would be like Chris when he got older, or if he would be like her, or even if he would be like either of them at all. The thought made her feel sad. She didn't like to think of Jonah as separate from her and Chris; she secretly avoided the fact that he wasn't _only_ evidence of their relationship and would actually become a completely new person.

But she couldn't get the old man out of her head. It was incredibly annoying, because she was meant to be feeding Jonah his bottle, but her elbow kept dropping as she thought of the passenger, and she nearly let both Jonah and the milk fall to the floor.

"What's he called?"

Shocked, Jal jumped slightly as she caught sight of the old man in front of her, fumbling for the right words.

"Err...I..."

"Can I sit here?"

He smiled widely, and Jal couldn't refuse him a seat. There was definitely something familiar about this guy.

"So, about this young man of yours?"

"Oh, his name's Jonah."

"Jonah?"

The man seemed amused somehow, as if there was something funny about it.

"And I take it you're Ronnie Fazer's daughter, with the problems?"

"I don't have problems," Jal grimaced, banging the bottle down angrily on the table as she spoke, "What's it to you anyway?"

"More than you think."

Jal frowned, confused about his answers. The man seemed more and more strange as the train sped through the countryside.

"What do you mean?"

"I assumed you knew. I thought that was why you were watching me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jal trembled. She was getting nervous.

"Hmmm. Maybe you're not as clever as I thought," he paused whilst he glanced out the window, reading the sign of the station they were pulling into, getting up as the train came to a halt, "Have you still got that old music box which played the Gershwin?"

Jal nodded, confused as to how he knew about her music box. She'd had it for as long as she could remember.

"Take off the bottom, there's a secret compartment. It was hidden from your dad."

He placed a torn pieced of lined paper on the table in front of her; it had a phone number written on it, scrawled messily in splodgy blue ink.

Jal watched as the man nodded goodbye and got off the train. Now she was seriously confused. She didn't know anyone who lived in Reading either.

She stared again at the contact number, practically too scared to pick it up. Rubbing Jonah's back as he whimpered, Jal shakily picked up the paper and slipped it into her bag.

Jal was distracted for the remainder of the journey. She had to remind herself she had Jonah with her several times to stop herself from forgetting to look after him. But Jal still couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something which was bloody obvious right in front of her.


	18. The Generation Gap

**THE GENERATION GAP**

Jal rushed through the flat to her bedroom, leaving Jonah in his pram in the doorway. She pushed the door to her bedroom open frantically and began wrenching open all of her drawers, one by one, searching for the music box. Throwing clothes out of her wardrobe, Jal stretched to the very back of the cupboard, her fingernails scratching the lacquered wood. Finally, she found a cardboard box and pulled it towards her, its crammed contents spilling all over the floor. Digging through what seemed like thousands of old trinkets, teddy bears and clothes, Jal started to worry, contemplating that she might never solve this mystery. She kept looking, sorting through the piles of junk in the crate until finally, her hands rested on something which wasn't furry, jewellery or clothing. Nervously, she lifted the music box up, wondering if what the old man had said could possibly be true.

It was made of antique leather, the brass clasps locking its music inside. The old brass key was still in the lock and Jal turned it, almost hesitating, but as soon as the music started to play, she couldn't stop herself from opening the box properly.

Gershwin.

The first music that really ever made her _want_ to play the clarinet. She had hated the instrument when she first started learning, but her mum reminded her every day that the more she practiced, the closer she'd get to playing the music she loved.

Jal let herself listen for a minute to the song before she turned her mind to the old man's message.

_Take off the bottom, there's a secret compartment. It was hidden from your dad._

She tried to pull the floor of the box up, but it wouldn't budge, Jal tried again, more roughly, but it wouldn't move. She stopped pulling, scared of ripping the fabric inside.

She shut the box, examining the outside. There was a slight rip along the edge underneath the box. Jal slipped her finger inside, and feeling metal, carefully cut the seam open with some nail scissors until the wood underneath was bare. There was another compartment underneath the main box which had been hidden by the leather.

The old man wasn't lying.

Who was he? How could he possibly know she had this music box?

She gripped the secret drawer and tugged it open forcefully; dust flew in her face causing her to cough violently. Jal peered inside the small compartment and saw another face staring straight back at her, the same gold eyes as hers.

It was a photograph of a girl, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old, being hugged by her mother. There was a man in the background. He looked exactly like the old man, only about forty years younger, a cigarette in his left hand as he held the mother's shoulder in his right.

_Who were they?_

Jal brought the photograph closer to her face and studied the girl, whose own face was so similar to hers. She seemed so happy, smiling at the camera as if she couldn't ever imagine a better day than this; the photo wasn't only charming, it was practically idyllic. Jal stared more, searching for clues, even though she already knew the answer to her own question. Still, there was someone missing, a gap in the almost perfect chain.

She flipped the photo over. There was only one line handwritten messily on the back:

_Tell Ron I'm sorry. _

Slowly, Jal got to her feet, wandering back into the main room of her flat. She didn't look up from the photo until she heard a startlingly calm voice speaking from the front door.

"Missed me, Jal?"

Xxx

Jal snatched Jonah from him, not caring that it made him cry, but only concerned that she got both of them as far away from him as possible when he was like this.

"What's the problem, Jal?" Dan questioned her, "I used to look after him all day long."

"You didn't used to sneak into people's flats."

"You shouldn't have left the door open. Joe was right in the doorway, anyone could have taken him!"

Jal flinched, realising she had been careless. She didn't want criticism from Dan, someone who she had trusted so much before. She hugged Jonah tighter, wanting to comfort him even more to compensate for her mistake.

"So?" Jal whispered, avoiding Dan's gaze by staring at the photograph which she was still clutching between her fingers awkwardly as she held Jonah, "I'm a terrible mum, then? Is that what you're saying?"

"No."

Jal let him catch her eye, and couldn't help smiling back at him sadly. Even though he had lied to her, and then let Maxxie make Dan choose him over her, he wasn't any different, was he? Dan was still her friend, still Jonah's friend.

"I've missed you, Jal."

"Does Max know you're here?"

"Yes. I told him I'd had enough of this feud between you two. This was the best job I ever had."

"Really?"

"And the best friend."

"Fuck off!" Jal laughed, making a mental note that she wasn't supposed to be swearing in front of Jonah anymore.

"What? I'm not joking!"

"You're telling me that I'm your best mate? Bless, he's not had much luck, has he Joe?"

Jal stroked Jonah's cheek with her thumb, grinning at Dan for a few seconds before he pulled both of them into a hug.

"I've had plenty of luck, thanks."


	19. Neapolitan Dreams

**NEAPOLITAN DREAMS**

Jal plunged her spoon into the huge tub of ice cream, jamming the metal into the frozen block. She tried to pull it out, but the spoon was stuck.

"Come out you little bugger," Jal snarled, "I want my fucking ice cream!"

She started pulling again, trying to push the tub away, but it was too cold for her to hold onto.

Jal screamed, swearing and cursing at the freezing plastic box.

"Whoa, I didn't realise how much you like ice cream."

Jal paused for a second and turned to look at Chris. She hadn't realised he was there.

"I want my ice cream," Jal pouted at him, "but this stupid fucker won't let me have any!"

Chris sat down on the bed next to her and stabbed his spoon deep into the ice cream so that it stood up next to Jal's.

"Ah," Chris mused," puck."

Jal laughed, wondering how he thought the ice cream would react any differently to his spoon than it did to hers.

She curled up next to him, resting the frosty box (and the vertical spoons) on her knees. It made goosebumps rise all over her skin as icy water soaked through the duvet across her legs.

"Chris," Jal sniffed as she gazed up at him, "that was meant to be my breakfast."

Chris looked at her as if Jal was mad.

"It's nearly midnight babe. Breakfast was ages ago."

"Tomorrow's breakfast then," Jal reasoned as she used Chris's tie to wipe the water off her cold skin, "And anyway, we've been in bed all day. That means that as I haven't had lunch or dinner, I'm therefore entitled to breakfast."

"I've already had my breakfast, lunch and dinner."

Chris wiggled his eyebrows at Jal and traced his finger cheekily around her shoulder, slipping off her bra strap.

"You have a dirty mind Christopher," Jal giggled, "normal people are not cannibals."

"Who said I was normal?"

"True."

Chris kissed her on the cheek, half catching her lips. He tasted of cheese and onion crisps.

"Chris?"

"Yes, light of my life?"

"You're not hungry 'cause you've been eating crisps, haven't you?"

"Ummm...no?"

Jal hit Chris's shoulder jokily, pinching his lip between hers.

"Ace is going to kill you."

"For shagging his sister?"

"No. For eating his precious Pringles. But he'll probably kill you for shagging me also, yes. That's if my dad and Lynton don't get there first."

"How many times am I expecting assassination again?"

"I'd estimate about one hundred and eighty three if I'm honest."

"Ah."

"It's a good thing I'm worth it, right?"

"Been watching those L'Oreal adverts again, Jalander?"

Chris raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes at her in mock deprecation.

He pulled her to him harder, running his hand up the back of her neck and through her hair, ignoring Jal's protests of frizz-control. Chris shut her up, forcing his lips on hers until she had no choice but to stop talking.

He could feel the tops of her ribs and ran his hands along the bones, reaching up to her bra. He slipped his fingers under the wire, and Chris thanked G-d that this time Jal wasn't swatting him off.

Suddenly, Jal felt a painful sharp jab under her ribs. She broke apart from Chris immediately, practically jumping away.

"OW!"

The metal spoons were proudly upright, jolting into her side. Jal stared at the ice cream silently for ages, wishing it was a bit less frozen.

Chris very quickly got bored of watching his girlfriend drool over something that wasn't him.

"Just stick it in the microwave, babe."

"Can't. The spoons are metal."

"So? It'll only like, blow up or something."

"Obviously completely harmless."

Xxx

After half an hour of pulling and threatening the block to melt a little, Chris finally managed to free the spoons.

Chris watched as Jal dug into it, stuffing a massive heap of freezing vanilla into her mouth.

"Fuck!"

Jal whimpered and her eyes watered as her entire body shivered from the ice.

Chris laughed at her, climbing out of bed and pulling his clothes on slowly.

"Where are you going?"

"I've got to check Cass is alright."

"Stay, Chris. She'll be fine, you don't have to check on her - she's not a baby!"

"She's been really weird, Jal. There's some shit going on with her. Anyway, I've got work today."

"Is it Monday already?"

"Thursday. Boss gave me a few days off 'cos I sold the flat in Horfield."

"Thursday?"

"I thought I told you."

"Fuck, what about college?"

"I rang in sick for you."

"Shit, they're gonna see straight through that, Chris. They'll have recognised your voice."

"No, I got Anwar to sort it out."

"Fucking hell!"

Jal plunged ice cream into her mouth again, too distracted to react to its coldness.

"Don't worry," Chris leaned onto the bed and kissed her, licking ice cream off her lips, "it'll be fine."

"Hmm...you're sure it's Thursday?"

"Yup. It said so on your clock thingy when I went down to the kitchen."

"So you did pinch the Pringles?"

"No."

Chris stuck his tongue out at her cheekily, but Jal was worried anyway.

"It'll be alright. I promise, Jal. You're their best student anyway; they're not going to fucking kick you out."

"Hmmm..."

"Look, come round to mine after school. You've got eight hours before you've gotta leave your bedroom anyway."

"Cass will be there."

"Fuck, I think she's going on about some flat-warming party or something."

"Shit. She's really messed up at the moment 'cos of Sid and 'Chelle."

"I forgot."

"I know. Come on, I'll make you some lunch for later then. You'll forget it otherwise."

"It's only one am."

"I said I'd make you some lunch, alright?"

Jal glared at him for a second, and Chris remembered why he wasn't ever going to fuck her over.

"Come on."

Jal smiled again and carried the ice cream out of her room in her underwear, spooning chocolate and strawberry into her mouth as Chris followed her down all the stairs.

Chris forgot sometimes how rich she was. He wished he could live somewhere like this, or promise Jal something better than what he had.

He watched as Jal tipped salad into a Tupperware box for him in the kitchen and sliced up vegetables quickly.

Chris imagined he could get used to this sort of life, having Jal and a dog (or something equally fucked up) in some massive house somewhere posh.

Jal thought back a few weeks.

And then she counted the days in her head again to check she wasn't confused.

It was already Thursday, and something was making her feel very nervous.


	20. Hairy Trees

**HAIRY TREES**

"Look!"

Jal giggled as Jonah burst into a huge smile. She swore that she'd never seen a happier or cuter grin, even on Chris.

She felt the flash of Maxxie's camera-phone as he laughed with them; Jonah gurgled at the bright red mobile, reaching out towards its shiny cover.

Jal noted he had become louder recently, and it always seemed as if he was trying to tell her something, making noises which vaguely resembled speech and had clear rhythm. Maxxie joked that Jonah was obviously a performer, and that Jal's hopes of him being a musician were completely wasted.

Jal was pleased Maxxie was back. He'd come round to see Dan, and they couldn't help but be friends again; it was just wrong not seeing each-other and pretending that they weren't both miserable without gossip and chat.

She turned Jonah round so she could balance him upright on her knees. He smiled again, clutching her hair to steady himself, and seemed to wiggle to Maxxie's music blaring out of the iPod speakers.

"See, Jal?" Maxxie teased her, tapping his feet on the sofa cushions to the song, "He's a dancer."

Jal scoffed, shaking her head at Maxxie in fierce disagreement.

"Bulldog. He's a musician. It just shows he's got musicality."

"Bulldog?"

"Not swearing, remember?"

"Ah, right. Well, he's still a dancer. You're just going to have to face up to it."

"Shan't."

Jal brought Jonah close to her face, his tiny hands resting on her cheeks.

"Do we want Maxxie to shut up now Jonah? Shall we tell him to be quiet?"

Jonah gurgled loudly, burbling happily at Jal's expression.

"Ah! He's clever, Max. He knows you talk utter rubbish."

Maxxie stuck his tongue out at Jal and wiggled his eyebrows at Jonah playfully, keeping him happy.

Jal watched Jonah, unable to imagine what life would ever have been like without him. She hated her dad, for not being interested about him and only caring about himself and his money, but she hated Graham too, for still not bothering. She had thought foolishly that he would have wanted to know Jonah, because he hadn't known Chris properly. But Jal still had not heard anything from Graham.

She hadn't had the guts to ring the phone number that her grandfather gave her either. She knew it must be him, and even though she wished so hard when she was little that she had a grandma or grandpa, somehow the prospect seemed daunting now.

Jal's mobile buzzed loudly on the sofa next to Maxxie, jolting her out of her day dream.

Maxxie snatched it up so quickly that Jal didn't even realise it was moved before he started reading the text out.

"Can't wait to see you at the Tippett lecture? X x x!"

Maxxie grinned devilishly, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as Jal grabbed her phone immediately to read the message herself.

"It's Jake."

"Just Jake?"

"Yes, just effing Jake, Max. He's only some guy from uni. We've been paired together for a duet in the July concert."

Maxxie raised his eyebrows to suggest something otherwise.

"Nothing's going on, alright? It's just this lecture about Michael Tippett, and we're playing one of his pieces."

Jal stared down at Jonah, now quiet in her arms. His thick hair brushed against the inside of her elbow as small brown curls arched over her skin.

"Do you want there to be something going on though?"

"Max! It's not an option anyway - it's the anniversary of Chris's death in three weeks."

Maxxie turned her face gently away from Jonah so Jal was forced to look into his blue eyes.

"You don't have to do this. You're allowed to fall in love again."

Jal didn't reply.

She kept staring into Maxxie's eyes, but she wasn't really there. She couldn't help thinking that maybe she was holding herself back. Maybe she was the only obstacle before a new relationship, and new love.

But at the same time, Jal was scared that she had to let go. It was all very well knowing Chris wasn't going to wake up and read The Very Hungry Caterpillar to Jonah, yet Jal still didn't want to give up on him.

"I don't want to ruin everything," Jal whispered, almost scared to say it out loud, "I don't want to forget him."

"You won't. I promise."

"Promise?"

"As if you need a reminder of Chris. You're like a fucking elephant, Jal. You don't forget a fucking thing."

Jal hit him on the back of the head hard with her free hand.

"Ow!" Maxxie rubbed his sore scalp, gasping at Jal, "What was that for?"

"No swearing."

"He's half asleep!"

"He'll absorb it. His mind's a fucking sponge at the minute, Max."

They burst into laughter, forgetting Jonah; he screamed as the sudden noise shocked him.

Jal stood up, rocking him in her arms to try and calm him. She felt she'd had far too much practise of this recently, and Jonah had become very possessive of her, crying when she left for uni and when she left him alone for too long. Even Dan was beginning to struggle keeping him happy.

Maxxie watched, slightly bewildered by the situation. He knew Jonah must cry sometimes, but he hadn't really seen Jal as a mum with Jonah when he wasn't happy. Like Chris, he seemed to be happy all the time normally. Maxxie supposed that in the few weeks they'd fallen out, Jonah had changed a lot.

Jal wrenched a book out of the shelf with her right hand while she balanced Jonah on her left hip. He seemed startled by her sudden movement, and after a moment of silence began to scream again.

Jal settled back down onto the sofa, chucking the book at Maxxie to open. She sat Jonah up on her knees and read the book, wishing that Jonah's attention would be caught by his favourite book. Thankfully, he began to calm down as they got further into the story, and Jonah was asleep by its ending.

"G-d, absolute nightmare, " Jal glanced over at Maxxie, "Don't get Dan pregnant, Max."

"I can promise you that,"

"Good. Now pass the phone."

Jal replied to Jake's text speedily, having got used to needing to be quick with Jonah's current attention problem.

_Can't wait to see you either x_


	21. Tuning Lessons

**TUNING LESSONS**

Jonah was with Dan and Maxxie. They were on the other side of the city centre, because Maxxie had a rehearsal for a new play which was opening in the west end. Jal had done everything she could not to get in his way; she still felt guilty about him losing the job at Christmas.

Jal focussed on the music.

It was simpler than other pieces she'd seen, not even as hard as the Weber she played to get into the school, but she couldn't concentrate. Her fingers kept slipping, and her mind was shot.

"You alright?"

Jal glanced up towards Jake.

She nodded, tapping her pencil on the heavy wooden desk.

"Just can't be arsed with the theory."

She turned back to the manuscript, trying to imagine the melody in her head, but there was no use. She began to bite her nails, tearing off skin around her cuticles like chicken.

"Are you worried about Jonah?"

Jal turned to Jake again. It was the first time one of her friends from university had mentioned him; it almost seemed like Jonah was a taboo sometimes.

Jal nodded again, slowly.

She stared at Jake, for the first time noticing the depth of his hazel eyes. They were almost as bright as Chris's had been. His curly hair was messy too, and Jal's gaze followed a thick chocolate brown coil falling over his face. She imagined how it would feel wrapped around her fingers.

Jal shook her head and scolded herself for daydreaming. She had work to do.

She ignored her thoughts, and refused to look at Jake again on principle. Her concentration was still rubbish; she couldn't take her mind off Jonah, Chris or Jake. She felt guilty for even looking at someone else, even though she knew Maxxie was right. And how did she know that Jake would be interested in her anyway? She had a kid, a whole load of excess emotional baggage, and papers of scandal behind her, even if she was one of the most advanced musicians in the school.

Jal cleared away her stuff and crammed everything into her bag. She picked up her clarinet case and swung her bag over her shoulder before scrabbling around in her pockets, looking for her mobile.

"It's here."

Jake was pointing to her phone; it was hiding behind his book.

Jal snatched the phone quickly, smiling in thanks at Jake, and jabbed the buttons hard.

"Fuck!"

She pressed her fingers over the buttons, desperately willing a reaction to take place, but nothing.

"Want mine?"

Jake was holding out his iPhone.

"I don't know how that works."

Jake grinned, showing off his gorgeous smile. Jal had to tell herself off again.

She told Jake Dan's number, and soon she was talking to him. She could hear Jonah gurgling in the background. It sounded suspiciously like a melody. Shit. She'd be furious if Maxxie was right about Jonah too.

Xxx

Jal was rehearsing the duet with Jake.

She listened to how he played, and noted his changes in expression and volume so she could criticise him. It had to be perfect.

Jake, of course, had been gracious enough not to criticise her part much anyway.

Despite the fact it was ridiculously out of tune because her clarinet had been knocked in the corridor. He even tuned it for her after.

He came to an end, the tension building in the piece up to the last few bars.

"It's good. Really good."

"Sure?"

"Well, just tighten up in that mid section and make sure the timing doesn't slip, and then it's absolutely perfect."

Jake smiled again, and Jal couldn't help returning his grin.

They went through the piece again, Jal counting out the music precisely for him so they could get the timing right to the millisecond.

They only had a few minutes left until they had to leave the room - someone else had booked it.

When he finished, Jal bent over the music to write in some notes to remind them of expression and volume. She could sense Jake watching her, and she felt suddenly very self-conscious.

Jal turned to face him slowly. He closed the lid of the piano, balancing her clarinet on top of it, and was focussing on her intensely, even though she was looking straight back at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

Suddenly, she felt his lips pressed against her, his tongue flicking over hers.

He drew back, and Jal stayed still.

He waited for her to respond, but she didn't.

She was thinking everything and nothing all at once.

Jal didn't look at Jake as her eyes began to itch, and she reached for her clarinet.

"We'll have to practise in my flat, Jake. We need to go over the piece some more."

She knew he was disappointed, but she was still too scared of letting Jonah down.

And Chris.

She didn't know if she was ready to be kissed again yet.


	22. Spaceman

**SPACEMAN**

Jake slammed his door shut frustratedly.

He hated the poxy little flat that he rented; he hated the crap part-time job he had to afford the shit-hole; most of all, he hated his fucking awful attempt of a love life.

Jake wasn't going to go to her flat to be rejected again, even if it was for practising the bloody duet.

He kicked his bed angrily, groaning and swearing at the pain which shot through his foot.

Jake collapsed on his creaky landlord-provided bed. He didn't understand what he was doing wrong. Fuck, it couldn't be that he wasn't trying hard enough. Jake had given blood, sweat and tears for Jal, literally: he had a habit of walking into things when he had his mind on something - or someone - else.

Maybe she had no idea how much he liked her. She didn't know how he had hinted heavily, in fact practically begged, the concert director to pair him with Jal in a duet; she didn't know that he had cut off all contact with Abigail because she'd spilled about Chris to the press even after she'd promised she wouldn't; Jal had no idea he'd paid two hundred pounds to get front row tickets for an upcoming Gershwin concert.

Jake sighed, burying his face under his arms. He had never got this frustrated over a girl before. In the past, he'd always been so buried in his music and finding old records and LPs that he'd never really had the time to see girls. And when they wanted him, he was often too oblivious to notice. Of course, he'd had a couple of serious relationships, but all they'd done was toughen him up; Jake had decided he wouldn't let himself get screwed over again by anyone.

He could feel his mobile vibrating in his pocket. As he brought it to his ear, the ringtone got louder; even though it was his favourite song, he still felt miserable.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jake!"

"Hi Lils."

"What's up?"

"Don't really feel like discussing it with my kid sister, to be honest."

"Oi! I'm not a kid, I'm seventeen."

"So grown-up."

"I'm only two years younger than you, dickhead."

Jake got up from his bed wearily and sat in front of his guitar, strumming the strings lazily.

"Fine then. You're completely mature in every single way."

"That's more like it. I happen to be an incredibly sophisticated person."

"You dyed your hair pink."

"It's not pink; it's just dark red highlights."

Jake stayed silent.

"Okay, dark pink. But that's not the point," Jake could hear Lily sucking on a spliff and breathing out the smoke, "the point is, you haven't called home for weeks and Mum is going mental cos she can't get through to you. You're always engaged."

"Well, I've been busy."

"You've never been too busy for Mum before, even when you were with Anna."

"Let's not talk about her."

"Yes. Bitch."

He heard her inhale again.

"So..."

"What, Lily?"

"Who is it?"

"Who's who?"

"Who's keeping you occupied? Can't always be music, can it?"

"It can actually. I've been practising for a concert duet with Jal."

"Jal Fazer? Oh yeah, you said she was in your class. To be honest, I didn't think you'd be friends with that sort of girl."

"What sort of girl?" Jake gritted his teeth angrily.

"Well...easy."

"She's not easy, believe me."

At once, Jake realised he'd completely given it away.

"Fuck me!"

"Bugger."

"You fancy _her_! Oh my G-d! But what about all that emotional baggage? Is she very traumatised and that, from the kid and the boyfriend and everything? Is it very difficult to talk to her? What happens when you want to go ou-"

"Shut up! She's not some weirdo that you can prod in the zoo, Lils."

"Ooh...protective, Jakey?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

Jake pressed the red button, cutting him off from Lily. That was all he needed, his silly gossiping sister telling everyone he had the hots for some teenage mum with emotional problems.

Not that Jal was really like that.

Jake hauled himself up the floor, running a hand through his curls. He'd decided enough was enough.

He scrolled down his contacts list on his mobile and rang her.

"Jake?"

"Jal..."

She was being quiet.

"You know when I kissed you before?"

Still silent.

"Look, I'm serious about you. I'm not here to fuck around."

"I know."

"So...can I come back over?"

"I've got Jonah with me now."

"Well...can't I see him?"

There was a long pause.

"Okay. I'll see you soon, I guess."

"Thanks."

Jake heard her hanging up on him, but it didn't matter. Things were going somewhere. It was time to take control.


	23. Flour Babies

**FLOUR BABIES**

"You know what? Fuck you, Chris."

"What? Babe..."

"No! I'm not your fucking 'babe' anymore, alright?"

Chris watched as she flounced out the kitchen, her hair flying out behind her whilst she stomped away.

"Want a spliff?"

Jal held out the joint to him, watching its smoke pour out of her mouth.

"Thanks."

Chris collapsed against the wall next to her, sinking down to the floor. He took the spliff from her and inhaled it deeply, closing his eyes for a few seconds.

"Fuck. I don't know what her problem is."

Jal turned to face him, her pyjama top hanging off one of her shoulders and flour over her face, hair and legs.

"She caught you having a stiffy over her best mate."

"Yeah, but Buck Tooth shags everyone. Besides, it's the pills."

Chris scoffed at Buck Tooth's _obvious_ idiocy, raising the spliff to his mouth again. But Jal snatched it from him quickly and he was left shocked for a second.

"Poor Chris," Jal glanced down at his Viagra-induced situation, "life's just not fair, is it?"

"Oi!"

Jal giggled, flicking her sharp fingernails over his stomach. He watched her bring the roll-up to her lips, resting her elbow on her bare floury knee.

"You've got spaghetti in your hair."

"What?"

Chris laced the pasta round his fingers, separating it from her hair for her.

"You should wear your hair like that more. It looks nice."

"'Chelle always says that."

"Seems like Barbie's not a complete thicko then."

Jal digged him deep in the ribs.

"Fucking hell, Jal!"

"It's the clarinet," Jal smirked at him, "Gives you muscles in your arms."

"No fucking joke!"

She smiled at him again, her braces catching the light for a second.

They watched a couple opposite them sucking each-other's faces off, both Jal and Chris cocking their heads sideways at the same time.

"Urghh. I hate public fornication. I have to watch 'Chelle being penetrated half the fucking day without this shit."

Chris chuckled to himself.

"What?"

"Well, you don't really notice other fuckers are watching if it's a decent shag."

"_I know_."

"Whey! Who's getting all defensive on us, then?"

Jal frowned, sucking the spliff fiercely and blowing out the smoke angrily.

"Why does everyone fucking assume that I'm not getting any?"

"Are you?"

Jal ignored him.

"'Cause, if you wore your hair down a bit and showed off your tits, you'd probably be dead shaggable."

"Thanks a fucking lot."

"You're welcome," Chris grinned at Jal devilishly, "now, do you want some of these pills? Goes pretty well with the vodka."

"You know what? Fuck it!"

Jal took the blue pills from Chris's palm and downed them with his bottle of vodka, arching her eyebrow at him daringly.

Chris grinned back again, draining the rest of the bottle when she was finished with his pills.

"Now...." Chris wiggled his eyebrows cheekily, "ready for some more flour, Fazer?"

Jal squealed and ran behind the door as he grabbed a box of flour from the kitchen cupboard and began pouring it over her.

"You wanker!"

They ran into the hallway, the loud music blaring into their ears from the living room stereo.

Jal snatched some yoghurt from Cassie, who had been watching it intensely for half an hour, and threw it all over Chris.

"Awwww...I'm going to have to take my clothes off now Fazer. You've fucking _soiled _them!"

"You're gonna get that tiny cock out again?"

"Right. Now you're really getting it."

He sloshed her jeans in vodka and beer, soaking Jal's legs through. Jal took them off groaning and started to hit him with them, the sodden denim slapping his skin hard. Chris took off his yoghurt covered clothes and smeared them over her, spreading the white gloop all over her legs and shirt. They yelled and shrieked at each other, having some sort of pillow fight with their dirty clothes.

The drugs were kicking in more now, and they danced together out of time to the music.

Suddenly, Jal felt something hard she'd forgotten about digging into her hip.

"Chris? You didn't give me Viagra did you?"

"Dunno. Might have done..."

"Oh! Fucking hell!"

"I gave you some other stuff before too!"

Jal giggled hopelessly, bending over herself in laughter. Chris didn't notice when he turned around that she had written 'Gay boy' in lipstick across his back and bum.

"It's alright, Miles. I forgive you and your little cock."


	24. Snap

**SNAP**

Jal opened the door nervously, peeking round the edge before she let Jake in properly. He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head so he only pecked her cheek. Jal felt instantly guilty as the disappointment registered on his face, but she knew she didn't want to kiss him properly quite yet. She led him to the sofa and they sat down next to each other. Jake could tell her clarinet had been placed strategically in the middle of it, so he had little hope of getting close to Jal. They sat together awkwardly; every time Jake tried to start conversation, Jal answered monosyllabically. In fact, it wasn't so different from her TV interview before the Young Musician of the Year competition.

Jal watched Jake for a minute, wishing that she could stop herself from being such a bitch.

_Jesus, Jal! Can't you make a fucking effort?_

Jake stared at his hands. He hadn't imagined that it would be quite this awkward. Obviously, it would have been ideal if Jal had declared her undying love for him and they spent the evening in bed and the morning talking about music before they set off for college. But he knew that that would never happen, even if she didn't have a kid and a dead boyfriend and a nanny living in. Jake just wished Jal wasn't being as prickly as she was.

"I'm sorry."

She took Jake by surprise: he glanced up at her quickly, focussing on her golden brown eyes.

"It's okay. I shouldn't have come. Look, I'll go."

"No!" Jal grabbed his hand as he began to get up from the sofa, "Don't."

Jake sat down again, moving the clarinet off the sofa and resting it on the floor carefully. He wasn't going to let a fucking clarinet take over his love life.

"I'm just..." Jal screwed up her face, propping it up in her hands, "completely fucking screwed up. You don't need someone like me. You deserve better Jake. "

Jake shook his head and began to disagree but the sound of Jonah crying interrupted him, cutting through the air.

Wearily, Jal heaved herself upwards and started towards her bedroom door.

"See?" she turned back to look at him as she pushed the handle, "You can't honestly want this life."

Jake watched as she disappeared into the room and emerged when the crying stopped, carrying Jonah and some sort of baby play mat. She rested the mat on the floor with one hand whilst she balanced Jonah on her hip with the other. They sat together on the sofa, watching Jonah play with the materials and furry mobile hanging over him.

"He's lovely, Jal."

"Mmm..."

Jal swelled with pride and happiness inside at Jake's compliment, but it couldn't match the deep unmoving feeling of guilty unease which was clogging her brain.

"Really blue eyes."

That made her wake up.

"They're his dad's."

"Chris?"

"Yeah," somehow, Jal didn't feel as awkward or defensive about talking of Chris for the first time, "He's like him in other ways too. Joe's into that whole dance music thing apparently, and I've got to admit that was more Chris's scene."

"Tried him out on rap?"

Jake teased her, knowing full well that Jal disliked her brothers' and dad's music.

"Don't tempt him, please."

They laughed together, relaxing at each other's smiles.

"You're the first person I've really spoken to properly about Chris at uni."

There was a long pause, interrupted slightly by Jonah's burbling attempts at speech - or something like it - and Jake realised that maybe his expectations of Jal were too high.

"You miss him a lot, don't you?"

Jal turned to look at him again, working out that maybe she'd finally found another person who understood her without treating her like a nutcase, who just wanted to _know _about her. And more, she actually wanted to talk - Jal Fazer, for the first time in nearly a year, let her guard down.

"Every day. I can't seem to move on. I want to, really I do, but it scares me. I get worried even leaving Jonah with Dan these days; I'm always so paranoid that I'm going to fuck it up, that Jonah will get ill and then I'll have to go through the whole thing again and I'll be left with no one."

"Hey."

Jake had held her hand. Just like normal, Jal automatically compared him to Chris, remembering his encouragement when she was stressed from school and clarinet, when she told him she was pregnant and when they visited the graveyard to see Peter. Jal looked up and realised there were tears rolling down her face. She hadn't cried in months. It had been a promise to herself. Maybe it was also a promise that she wouldn't let go, because the more she stopped herself from crying, the more Jal felt like she hadn't grieved enough; that she hadn't paid off her debt.

She focussed again on Jake's hand over hers. Jal liked it. It was the first time she hadn't flinched from contact with a potential boyfriend, bizarrely wanting to preserve herself for Chris. She looked into his eyes and saw that Jake didn't pity her: he liked her; he wanted her to feel better. In fact, Jal thought she had seen this expression before - and she had only ever returned it to one person - did Jake even love her?

She looked away quickly, not wanting to have realised what she had. She caught Jonah gazing up at her from the floor and smiled, picking him up. Jake's hand ripped off hers as she jerked it away. Jal cradled Jonah in her arms like she did when he was tiny, letting him suckle on her finger.

Jake watched Jal, his chest tightening in bitter disappointment and rejection yet again. He wanted to scream and shout and have a tantrum about how unfair she was being, but he also knew that it wouldn't help anything. He flicked his mind back to life before university, when it seemed like life could only get better after countless GCSE and A-level exams.

"I understand what it feels like."

Jal concentrated on Jonah, not sure how to react to Jake.

"I had a girlfriend. She was called Anna," Jake paused, wondering if there was any point to trying to sympathise with Jal, "we were together for nearly two years."

He watched Jal stiffen slightly. She was still tending to Jonah, but now Jake was sure she was listening properly.

"One day, out of the blue, she dropped her A-levels, left her parents and ran away to Australia with some complete dickhead. I only found out because her new boyfriend texted me so I'd stop ringing her. They'd been fucking for six months behind my back while I was in concerts and composing. I'm not saying it's the same. I don't even suppose she _ever_ loved me as much as you loved Chris, but _I_ loved her that much. It fucks you up, doesn't it? It took me nearly a year to even contemplate looking at anyone else. That was when I met you."

Jake crossed his legs on the sofa, feeling even more idiotic and nervous than he had before. He thought his story was pretty shit compared to hers, and he didn't kid himself into thinking that his little revelation made him sound any different to a complete schmuck.

But Jal found herself immediately hating this Anna. She knew that there were always two sides to a story, and for all she knew, Jake could have been the crappiest boyfriend who ever lived, but for some reason she felt protective of him. She wanted to tell him things more now he told her his stories back and she appreciated that he didn't expect her to drone on forever as if her sob stories were his own personal entertainment system which would help 'heal' her.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Course, Jal."

"I haven't told anyone before."

Jake nodded, waiting patiently for Jal to speak. She was still blinking tears down her face, wiping them off messily so they didn't drip onto Jonah.

"When I got the phone call, telling me that they needed me to identify his body, I didn't believe them. I refused to go to the hospital and check. They had to call me six times to even get me out of bed. He died at one in the morning but I didn't go to the hospital until nearly three am. And I didn't cry then. Chris used to say he hated it when I cried because it made him think he'd hurt me. I was so paranoid that they were lying to me, I convinced myself that if I ever cried, I'd let him down. But..." Jal closed her eyes and held Jonah to her tighter, without realising she was doing it, "When they took me into that... morgue, and they pulled back the sheets, I couldn't stop myself. Not even for Chris. I felt awful, the worse I'd ever felt."

Jal could tell Jake was watching her, and she concentrated on Jonah so that she didn't have to look at him back, but she realised that (like Chris) she could only really talk when she didn't have to engage with whoever was there. For some reason, Jal couldn't make herself spill when there was someone there.

Jonah gazed up at her. Jal studied his eyes. She didn't want to stop yet.

"I told Chris I was pregnant the day he died. I told him I wanted an abortion. Chris wanted Jonah - he wasn't like me, he didn't see him as a problem - but he didn't know that he was convincing me. And the worse thing is, is that I don't know if I would have kept Joe, even if Chris didn't go and I didn't have to make the decision myself. What sort of person wants to hurt the one they love the most? My dad had to take me to identify him, and he just stood behind me and watched. I know he didn't want Chris to die, I know he's not that evil, but something made me think he thought it would solve everything. All I could do was look at Chris and cry. They wanted to sedate me, calm me down or something, but I wouldn't let them. I don't deserve happiness without Chris."

"That's not true-"

"I can still remember exactly how he looked," Jal ignored Jake, wanting to just get everything else off her chest. She hadn't explained anything like this yet, even to Michelle. But Jal needed to, "He was so pale. I could see his veins through his skin, even though they weren't, he wasn't...working anymore. His hair was still messy, like it had been the same that day. But there was blood on his face. Like a red stream, from his nose all the way down to his chin. And I kissed him. I wanted it to wake him up. I kissed him again and again. I must have looked ridiculous. But I just wanted him to...respond. I needed him to wake up and say 'April Fool's' or something, even thought it was August. He didn't, obviously. He never said goodbye."


	25. Anonymous

**ANONYMOUS**

"_Jal's fucked up worse than any of us but it doesn't all have to turn to shit."_

Chris's happiness immediately melted away. He didn't know what Michelle was talking about, but there was no reaction so he was obviously the only one who didn't. He couldn't focus on all the crap Michelle and Cassie were still spouting at each-other, and even though Chris could feel his skin going cold, his insides were burning up, squeaming in nervousness and fear. It felt like his throat had been cut off and his mouth was so dry he thought he'd never be able to speak up. But then Chris remembered Jal and he needed to get the words out. He couldn't risk being left out when it came to Jal.

"_Guys, how's Jal fucked up?"_

No-one answered him. Chris knew it must be something important because they were all avoiding his eye-contact. But then the door opened, and Chris knew it had to be Jal because she was the only one apart from Cassie who had a key. And he knew what the sound of her heels was like on the floor and how she seemed to walk to some sort of beat, like there was always music playing in her head. Chris imagined he'd probably spent too much time in bed trying to justify discharging himself from hospital and making Jal having to change his balls' bandages; she was the only thing he had to think about. But now it was as if his brain was going into overload. He looked at Jal, and she looked happy and beautiful - though to be fair, anyone could be beautiful if they sat in hospital with you for two weeks solid and looked after your cock - but now it seemed like she had something to hide. She hadn't been quite the same with him for a long time now, and Chris had assumed that it was just down to exam stress and then him being ill, but now he recalled all the times when she'd decided not to shag him just as they'd got into bed, or arrived late at his flat even though she'd finished school hours ago. Was she fucking someone else? It would be pay-back, for when he fucked her over with Angie. In fact, Chris thought it sounded pretty conceivable.

"_Hi! Sorry, the train was late, and..."_

He stared right at her, watching how her face fell, and how her eyes seemed so devastated when she looked at him. Sometimes he felt like he'd managed to fuck up her life ten times worse than he fucked up his own, because at the end of the day, if Chris died, he thought only Jal would miss him, but if Jal died, he knew the whole world would miss her.

"_What have you done?"_

Jal dropped her bags, and she instantly looked at Michelle and Cassie. It was obvious to Chris that all her feisty Jal-ness had just sort of evaporated and she stumbled over to Chris and sunk down on the floor in front of him. She looked like a baby again, like when he'd found her in the bathroom crying, or when they had been at that club and she'd drank all that shit coffee. He glanced up for one minute, and he saw that everyone else had slunk out of the room silently, either embarrassed or ashamed, Chris supposed. There were noises coming from Cassie's room, and Chris had no doubt to what she and Sid were doing, but for the first time in his life, he was able to filter out the sounds. It was like he'd managed to learn Jal's trick of playing your own music in your head so loud you couldn't hear anything else. Except for this time, Chris knew that the white, silent track wasn't just in his head, but it was taking up Jal's head too.

Chris couldn't take his eyes off Jal. She looked almost green, not with sickness, but with fear. He wanted to know why she was scared of him. Maybe it was all Chris's fault, and he'd turned her into this tired, worried person by being so difficult and not staying in hospital like she wanted him to, and by still smoking his spliffs even though she begged him not to. She even left the room when he lit up, and although Chris always knew that Jal wasn't exactly the most liberal when it came to his drugs and pills, he knew that she'd never reacted this badly. Now Chris was certain that she'd been having an affair, purely because he'd screwed her up so much, there wouldn't be anything else left for her to do.

"Have you been fucking Kenneth?"

Chris watched Jal, in a heap on the floor, slowly rise her head, that green fear even stronger in her eyes now.

"Fuck off. I can't believe you'd even _think_ I'd do that."

Her voice had gone quiet and it was croaky, as if it was taking all her energy to stop tears falling down her face. He thought this was the worse he'd ever seen her. It was better when she had withdrawn from him, and it seemed to hurt her every time she had to change his bandages or prop him up in bed or feed him chocolate milk through a straw. Now Chris realised she was dependent on him, and he didn't know what would happen if he let her down again.

Suddenly, Jal's whole body went white and tiny goosebumps rose all over her skin. She stiffened, still gazing up at him with that devastatingly-Bambi-alike look, like a child, and it looked like all the fire alarms had gone off in her head. Her body heaved, and Jal hauled herself up from the floor, and half crawled, half ran in to the bathroom. She hadn't closed the door, and Chris just stared at her. He watched her throwing up, her head hanging over the toilet weakly. He didn't understand what was going on. His brain wouldn't fucking work. He couldn't think anything. He just watched, the white music still clouding up his brain. He kept watching as she flushed the toilet, crawled over to the sink and had to pull herself up by holding the basin. He stared at how she cried, splashing her face with water to clean herself up, even though her tears just kept streaming from her eyes. He watched them drop into the sink, falling past the thin gold heart necklace which he'd paid Michelle to buy for her when he was in hospital. He imagined how they were swallowed up in the water puddle in the sink, waves rippling around them as they joined the rest of the clear liquid. Chris thought of how fucked up water really was. It was the stuff that kept you alive, but at the same time it also stuck around when you were at your worst, and it tortured Chris to see all the water that was cascading, literally, _out of_ Jal.

He couldn't keep watching her like this. It was the first time that he'd ever felt like he'd seen something he shouldn't have around Jal, apart from the time in Year 10 when he'd hid in the girl's locker room and saw her changing her top after Cassie had chucked her lunch all over her school blouse in a bid to prove that she wasn't hungry and she really didn't have a problem. It was also the first time that Chris felt really uncomfortable. He distracted himself by walking over to the sofa and slowly sitting down on it, focussing all his attention on lowering himself completely by arm-power. He didn't bend his knees, but tried to hold them out in front of him as if he was an Olympic gymnast, his hands grappling onto one of the arms and the back of the sofa.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He didn't notice that Jal had been watching him from the bathroom door. He let go, collapsing into the cushions and watched as she followed him. But Jal didn't seem like she had any arm-power. She just sank down next to him, folding her legs under her.

"You can't do that right now, Chris," Jal whispered so quietly, Chris was only just able to hear her, "you're going to make yourself ill again. I can't cope with you getting ill again. You need to stick around, okay?_ I_ need you."

Chris laced his arm around her, pulling her stiff body into a hug. She was shivering, even though she still had her yellow cardigan on.

"What's going on, Jal? What have you fucked up?"

Jal blinked tears again. She looked down, avoiding his eye contact.

"I'm pregnant."

Chris felt dumb. He couldn't move. Everything was flashing through his mind. How many times had she tried to tell him and he'd made it a hundred times more difficult? Maybe she'd told him before and he was too pilled up to remember. He hated himself for being so difficult. Why did he always have to make life so hard?

He squeezed her hand and turned round pulling Jal so she was right in front of him. He knew it was easier when they didn't look at each-other, but Chris thought they needed to. They sat for ages, just looking at each-other. Chris wanted to look at her stomach. He didn't know what he was looking for exactly, but for some reason he had this ridiculous urge just to touch her, to feel the blood under skin like he had before so many times, but tonight it would be different. It would be his blood there too. Chris thought how weird it was to be having someone else's blood in you. He knew he did, he'd had transfusions, but this was really fucked up. His blood was inside Jal. It was fascinating how G-d made shit to be so disgusting and amazing at the same time. Chris felt like he was in a shop selling the best quality pills in the world and they were all free.

Chris wanted to give her his present. He had been saving it for Christmas. He'd written the letter a few days ago, writing for the first time since the operation. Of course, he had to borrow Jal's pen, but luckily he'd managed to convince her to go back to school for one day while he wrote it in bed. There had been one last day after the exams when Year 13 had a massive final party, spraying silly string all over the college and laughing at Year 12 who had to hang around for another year. He'd heard that it had been awkward though. Jal told him that no-one spoke to her normally, even the teachers, because they'd known what happened to him. He suspected they knew about her pregnancy as well, if she'd been to see the school nurse or talked to Claire, her clarinet teacher. Chris wouldn't have been surprised if the whole school knew. But at the time, Chris hadn't, and he'd written all that crap about having kids. The locket was in his room, inside his spliff box. He didn't know anywhere else to put it where Jal would never look. Chris had picked it himself. He cut out the photo himself and ripped the sheet music out of her book. Even though he'd given her necklaces before, like the one she was wearing now, but this one was extra special. He'd spent more money on it than he had before. He'd saved his pill money for two months to buy it. Real, solid gold. He wanted to give it to Jal now, but he didn't want to get up and leave her. Chris decided to give it to her tomorrow, when she was feeling better and they could sort out this tiny little anonymous issue completely.

He kissed her softly, not wanting to shock Jal. He could see her skin up close as he drew back slowly: she was all red and puffy around the eyes and cheeks from crying; it looked almost like she'd been bruised.

"Don't hurt, Jal."

She looked at her stomach, and Chris gulped as he followed her gaze. Everything meant something completely different now.

"What am I going to do?"

"We'll work it out, I promise."

He watched a small smile play on her lips for a split second. Chris knew it was because he hadn't left her alone. He hadn't believed that it was only her problem. In fact, it was probably more problematic that Chris didn't even think it was a problem.

"It isn't that easy, is it? I want to go to university. How can I play the clarinet with a baby?"

"We'll follow you round. You can be playing in fucking Africa or something and we'll watch. And it'll be fine, honest. We'll be like those fucking Austrians of that Julie Walters' film."

"I think you mean Julie Andrews. Julie Walters' Ron's mum off Harry Potter."

"That'll do. We'll be like the Weasleys."

"They've got seven kids."

"In time, Jal, in time."

"You don't understand, Chris. I think I want...I think I want to..."

Jal looked down again.

Neither of them could quite say it.

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, babe, it's, it's...fine. It's your fucking body isn't, after all? And all that shit."

The 'shit' bounced off the walls. He hadn't meant it to, but Chris realised he'd said perhaps a little too aggressively.

"Anyways, you wouldn't want to mess up your tits, would you? They're fucking fantastic. Perfect, in fact."

He thought he'd seen a smile, but right now, Chris couldn't be sure of anything. He imagined how massive her tits would get if she changed her mind. They were already bigger. Chris hadn't thought about pregnant people's tits much before, but it seemed entirely normal to want to fuck Jal now, even though it would have seemed majorly disgusting if it was any other girl up the duff. It wasn't an option anyway. There was a hole in his balls, and well, Jal was, most definitely, pregnant.

"How long have we got?"

"Two weeks. It's over four months."

"The baby's four months old?"

"Seventeen weeks, Chris."

Chris let his mind wander. He was still holding Jal, but it was Jal and this seventeen-week old blob as well. He wondered what it would like to be a dad. He wouldn't drop it, like he'd dropped Sammy. But Chris knew that it wasn't going to get much older, probably.

"How do they....do it?"

"Chris..."

"Please, Jal. What are they gonna do to you?"

"They...they have to stretch...and then they take it away with these...forceps."

"Forceps?"

"They're like tongs, I think."

"Oh," Chris held Jal tighter, not wanting let her go, "won't that hurt?"

"Chris..."

"I don't want you getting hurt, alright?"

"They give you anaesthetic."

"See! That's a fucking operation! That's no different to what I had."

Jal stayed silent. Chris couldn't see her face - he'd tucked her head under his chin - but he could tell she was wiping her eyes. He didn't want to make her cry.

"Can I come with you?"

"When they..."

"I'll have to make sure they don't fuck you over, won't I? You'll need protecting."

Jal kissed Chris's hand, curling into him more.

"Thank you."

"I won't fuck it up again, Jal. And I will be a good dad, one day. I'm not going to fuck it up like my mum and dad did. We won't fuck it up like our parents did."

"One day, Chris."

"You promise? One day?"

"Yes, Chris. When we can afford it, when we've got jobs and my dad isn't breathing down my neck."

"Is he?"

"Are you surprised?"

"No."

He hugged her even tighter. Chris knew it would make her sad but he couldn't resist, just in case he never got a chance to do it again: he slipped his hand under her top and rested it on her stomach. He stroked it with his thumb, feeling how it was more rounded and protruded than normal, and how sometimes it seemed to change shape very, very slightly under his hand, as if whatever was in there was moving. Suddenly he felt a tiny nudge in his palm. Jal shifted on top of him, as if she was trying to stop it from happening.

"No, don't. Stay still."

Jal almost whimpered, as if she was scared of something, scared of getting attached to this nameless thing, and of Chris getting attached too. But she stayed still for him, and they lay on the sofa together spooning, and Chris laid his hand flat on her stomach.

There were only tiny movements, barely noticeable, but Chris could feel them faintly. Jal could feel them more strongly, but she'd spent the past fortnight trying not to, and had learnt not to respond physically, even if it made her feel like crying inside. She'd spent hours on the internet, reading stupid baby websites, wondering what exactly was going on, but she still refused to acknowledge that it was really inside of her. She knew the facts, she knew that she'd been feeling it move a week or so earlier than it would have been expected to, but Jal thought that it was only because it wouldn't leave her alone. It had to keep reminding her that it was there, still anonymous and unknown, but there. All eight inches and six ounces of it, with its eyelashes, eyebrows and miniscule lungs.

They stayed on the sofa for hours, half falling asleep, half wide awake thinking. Jal checked her watch when she woke up properly. It was already four o' clock. She tried to move, but his hand was still firmly clamped over her stomach. He hadn't slept. He'd been up all night, feeling the baby, loving it, and she'd just let him. It made everything harder.

She liked Chris's reaction, not hating her, not running away like the old Chris would have done, but it made her feel bad. She wanted him to want her, and this baby, but she wanted her to want it to, and she didn't know whether just wanting it was enough. Jal had always been sensible, and she knew it was distinctly un-sensible to force a kid into the world with two skint parents, one of which could die at any second and the other which wouldn't be able to cope if he did. She remembered the words of the nurse at the hospital.

_It's hereditary. The brother died of it._

"Chris?"

"Yes?"

Jal could feel his whisper in her ear and his foot as it threaded through hers, forcing her closer to him. Jal knew he wasn't only forcing her towards him though, but also the baby. It made her feel even worse.

"What happens if..."

"What?"

"If it happens again? The haemorrhage..."

"It won't. I'll give up the spliff for you. I promise. No more pills. I'll have my last one with Cass tonight, and then it'll be clean. I won't do it to you again."

Jal breathed in, closing her eyes. They were words she'd wanted to hear for so long, but he'd misunderstood.

"I meant...what happens if it happens later too?"

Jal braved herself to put her hand over his. It was the first time she'd properly embraced it, in some way, without thinking multiple swear words and crying and being nervous that everything was going to get completely fucked up. It was nice having someone there to help her.

"I don't know."

"Don't...don't touch anymore Chris, please."

Chris moved his hand, now resting it on top of her shirt and slightly lower, tilting her hips backwards over his. He didn't want to let go, he could have stayed there forever, but Jal seemed so vulnerable and fragile that he couldn't risk upsetting her again. Christ, he was fucking fragile right now too, having been reminded of the doubt that even if they did ever have kids, this plague wouldn't kill them off as well. He couldn't comprehend losing someone else, even if they were anonymous or non-existent, like he'd lost Peter.

"I love you Jalapeno."

"I love you more."

Chris laughed softly, both of them barely whispering while the light of the early morning crept in through the windows.

"S' not fucking possible."

"Well, I'm loving for two, aren't I?"

Chris could feel her pulse speeding up as he leant his head on her shoulder, and he suspected that it was the first time she had referred to the baby as something that was part of her, let alone him.

He kissed her neck and her shoulder, wrapping his leg over hers.

"It's time for me to change your bandages, probably."

"Oh. Thanks."

They got up from the sofa and Chris re-arranged himself. Jal got the medical kit out of her bag; she'd decided she should have one as well in case Chris forgot where he put his. Jal worked quickly, pulling the old padding off gently - she'd done it so many times, she'd learned how to do it."

"Fancy giving me the old, er - blowy, Jal?"

Jal giggled, hitting him on the arm softly.

"There's a hole in your bollocks, mate. I dunno what I'd end up with in my mouth."

"Fair play." Chris shrugged.

He watched her sort him out. He liked her being his nurse. He wanted to be her nurse too, in how many fucking weeks it would take. But Chris knew it wasn't going to happen.

"I need to go home now, Chris."

Jal looked at him from her kneeling position on the floor, throwing the medical kit in her bag. She was wiping her hands with a baby wipe, scrounging her skin of the essence of Chris.

"Do you have to?"

"Yes. I've got a clarinet lesson in an hour."

Chris was beginning to hate the fucking clarinet. If it wasn't for the stupid thing, Jal might not have any doubts about keeping his kid.

"Can't you stay for longer?"

"I've been here all night."

"Please. I love you."

"I love you too, don't forget. I'll come back tomorrow. I've got to see my dad; he'll be worked up about my audition. It was my last chance. If I don't get in to the Royal College..."

_You'll keep my kid, won't you? I'll settle for the last resort._

"How did it go?"

"Good, Chris."

_Fuck._

"I would be a good dad, you know. I'd take him to the park and do football and shit like that. I won't fuck it up."

"I know, Chris. But I might."

"You wouldn't fuck up anything, Jal. You can do anything. It'll be like a perfect family, and..."

He stopped when he saw her crying again. He couldn't avoid it now they were both sat up opposite each-other. He couldn't continue pretending not to notice.

"I've never had good parents. My own mum left me, and she only came back to tell me to get rid of it," Chris's heart jumped as he saw her rest her hand on her stomach, as if she didn't want to let go, "How do I know _I _won't be like that? We'll have kids one day, Chris. But right now, I need my music. I'd go crazy without it."

Chris stood up as she did, and kissed her. He held on for longer, not wanting to let Jal go, and what was inside her. She dropped her phone onto the table inbetween his door and the kitchen, forgetting to keep her hand wrapped tightly around it. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and slipped the other between them; his hand was pressed up against her swollen abdomen. He held her until he felt another nudge. Chris treated it as if it was a goodbye, or at least a farewell. Shalom, even.

"I'll see you later."

"I'll see you later, Chris."

She kissed him once more, and left with her bag and clarinet, shutting the door behind her. Chris was in the room alone. He hated it.

Chris wandered into his room and sat down in his boxers, pulling off his pyjama top. He picked up his pills. Not the blue ones. Not the round ones. Not even the ones with smiley faces on. The ones he was meant to take.

He felt crushed. It hurt more than all of his head-aches, hangovers and comedowns. And this time, it really mattered. For the first time, Chris hurt completely on behalf of someone else.


	26. Saturday Love Songs

**SATURDAY LOVE SONGS**

Jal squirmed in her warm bed as she woke up. She rolled over and watched Jake, studying how his chest rose and fell in his sleep as he breathed. Jal sat up in bed, stretching when she yawned. She felt blissfully happy for the first time in months. Dan was in the room next door with Maxxie, and Jal liked having them around every day - Maxxie had practically moved in with them now. She looked down at Jake again and smiled. She didn't think she would learn to trust him, in fact, Jal didn't think she would really ever learn to trust anyone again, after all the secrets with Chris.

Jal got out of bed drowsily and walked over to Jonah's cot. He was still asleep, sucking his thumb. She smiled at him too and watched him for a few minutes. It seemed bizarre that she had ever doubted having him now. She agreed with Chris still - yeses were good.

Jal left her bedroom and wandered over to the kitchen, getting eggs out the fridge. She cracked them into a bowl and beat them, before soaking two slices of bread in the egg. Jal flicked the radio on and fried the bread, singing along to the Saturday morning songs. She turned the sound up when the songs she liked came on and flipped the eggy bread onto a plate. All of her plates were plastic because she smashed china ones too easily around Jonah. Today, she was eating off a pink, sparkly Disney princess horror. It reminded Jal of the sort of thing Cassie would like, or even Michelle, if she was in a good mood. Jal crammed the hot bread into her mouth, letting the taste spread over her tongue. It was the first time she'd ate it in months - she hadn't made it since Chris made his African American variety. Jal had to admit, that however sweet Chris was, he really wasn't a very good fryer. Perhaps that was why working at that chicken fast food shop didn't work out very well when he first got kicked out of Roundview.

Jal closed her eyes, letting her mind drift away from reality with the eggy bread and the music. She smiled to herself, yet again. Jal had smiled a lot more often than she normally did today. She felt lighter, like a heavy, tear-drenched weight had just been completely lifted from her when she told Jake about Chris's death. She still felt guilty and upset, but it didn't make her feel ill anymore.

Jal heard a laugh behind her and turned round quickly.

Jake was standing in her bedroom doorway, holding Jonah, who was beaming up at him.

"He woke up, and I didn't think you'd appreciate being ripped away cruelly from your breakfast."

"He likes you."

"The feeling's mutual."

Jal stood up and took Jonah from Jake, laughing at their crumpled clothes. They were still wearing the ones they wore last night.

"Thanks for yesterday, Jake."

"What for?"

"For listening."

Jake smiled.

"Thanks for the bed. I haven't had such a good night's sleep for months - mine is bloody awful. My whole flat's crap, actually."

"Well, it was nice. I haven't had anyone in my bed for a long time."

Jake raised his eyebrow.

"I hope I satisfied you," Jake laughed sarcastically, "I didn't realise Miss Jalander was so deprived."

Jal burned bright red, her cheeks lighting up as if they were 100 watt light bulbs.

She sat down at the kitchen table with Jonah again, reminding herself of the night before. It was entirely innocent - they'd just slept in her bed, fully clothed, because by the time they had finished talking it was very nearly three o' clock in the morning and Dan was yelling at them to go to bed because he and Maxxie couldn't get to sleep.

"Do you want to go to a party tonight?"

Jal looked up at Jake, surprised.

"It's at my mate Chris's house."

"Ah," Jal mused, "another Chris."

"Yeah. Sorry. You don't have to come if you don't want to-"

"No," Jal laughed, "it sounds good. I haven't been to a party in, well, months."

"I didn't think you would have, to be honest."

Jal propped Jonah up on her lap again, helping him eat a small cracker. He already had a couple of lower incisor teeth, whose development Jal painfully recalled spending many nights awake with. Luckily for her, Dan had suffered more during the day when she was at university.

"It's been about a year since I've been to a decent party actually. It'll be a year next week when he first haemorrhaged, you see. Six months since Jonah was born."

"Jesus."

"Can't believe it's already been so long. I've got to take Joe to the hospital today for his check-up. Make sure all the clockwork's still going properly."

Jake watched Jal with Jonah, helping him support a bottle of milk. He was almost able to hold it entirely by himself.

"Actually, Jal..."

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you'd do me a favour soon."

"Hmm?"

"Well, it's my birthday on 8th August, and I would really like it if you came back to Hertford with me for the weekend. My mum always insists on me being at home for it, and it would be great if you would help me survive it."

Jal's face seemed to crumple, and she bit her lip as if she was stopping herself from getting upset.

"I'm really sorry, Jake. I have to go back to Bristol on the 8th."

"What are you doing?"

"It's the day Chris died. I have to go and see him..."

"Oh. Right."

"I've spent all year saving for a headstone. I'm getting it put up then."

"It's okay."

"I'm really sorry, honestly."

Jake swore inside his head. He knew he'd never be able to spend his birthday with Jal if it meant coming between her and Chris, who seemed to get in the way of everything. He didn't want to upset her, but part of him felt like yelling at her to wake up. Chris wasn't around anymore, but Jake was. He could be there for her - and Jonah - and Chris couldn't.

"No...that's more important. There's always other birthdays. Twenty-first's more important anyways."

Jal looked down at the table awkwardly. She knew just as well as Jake that there was little chance of her ever not going to the graveyard on the 8th. It seemed inconceivable to do anything else on that date, and she knew she wouldn't feel comfortable if Jake joined her just for the sake of spending his birthday with her. Jal couldn't cope with ruining his day too.

"But thanks, Jake. Thanks."

"You don't need to keep thanking me."

"No, I do. You've been a really good friend."

_Fuck. Friend. That's a stake through the heart._

"Thanks, Jal," Jake muttered, trying unsuccessfully to hide his grumpiness, "just as long as you're happy."

Jal put Jonah's bottle down on the table and grabbed Jake's hand, forcing him to look into her eyes.

"That's it. I am happy. Because of you."

Jake blushed, unsure of how to react.

"Well, you make me happy too, Jal."

"Even though I didn't fuck you?"

"Not all men are sex-obsessed pigs you know. To be honest, I was too tired for that anyway."

Jal laughed, jiggling Jonah in her lap, "Believe me, Chris was _never_ too tired."

Jake sighed irritably, stealing a sip of Jal's orange juice.

"I'm not Chris."

Jal's face fell, as if she'd almost forgotten that he wasn't the same as Chris and Jake wasn't an upgrade or second best option.

"I know," she spoke defensively, focussing on Jonah rather than making herself look at Jake again, "I was just saying..."

They sat in silence for a while, Jal avoiding Jake's eye contact while he desperately tried to catch hers.

Dan emerged from his room, a half-naked Maxxie behind him.

"Hey, Jake! Jal... I trust you had a good night's sleep together, eh?"

Dan winked at them, not realising the atmosphere had sunk to icy temperatures.

Jal kept on staring down at Jonah, feeding him the baby formula again. Jake kept his eyes downwards on the kitchen table, too embarrassed to correct Dan.

"Oh." Dan said.

Maxxie's mouth formed into a small 'o' like an echo and the pair of them sat down opposite Jal and Jake on the cramped table.

Jake watched as Dan and Maxxie munched on their toast nervously, telling rubbish jokes and babbling facts to try and lighten the atmosphere.

"I think I should go," Jake began, rising from the table, "I'll see you tonight Jal, for the party?"

Jal stood up herself and left the table, carrying Jonah to the bathroom and claiming that she had to bathe him.

"Ouch," Maxxie winced, "that was harsh."

"Yeah, well, I said something stupid."

"Better have not been about Chris," Dan added, "that's sort of a no-go area."

"You'd have thought I'd have more sense, right?"

"Too right."

Maxxie followed Jake to the front door as Dan checked on Jal in the bathroom to see if she needed anything.

"So what's this about a party, then?"

"Oh, my mate's twentieth. Big party at his brother's house. They're loaded, should be plenty of booze, not to mention the pills."

Maxxie laughed, confusing Dan, "Mate, you're probably more like Chris than you realise."

Jake shook his head, trying not to remind himself of the earlier conversation, "Anyways-"

"We'll get her ready for it," Maxxie interrupted, "Jal needs to get out more, even if you have behaved like a complete dickhead."

"Thanks for the support."

"No worries, Jake."

Maxxie grinned as he held open the door, letting Jake walk through onto the cold concrete.

"See you later, Maxxie."

"Yups."

Maxxie slammed the door shut behind him as he walked up to Dan, who had just emerged from the bathroom, putting his arms round Dan's hips and sneaking his hands into his pyjama bottom pockets.

"We've got one hell of a job to do today, Dan."

"What?"

"We've got to get Jal ready for this party."

They peeked into the bathroom for a second, watching Jal bathe Jonah miserably, with a pensive frown on her face. The radio was still playing its peppy pop songs, but it was turned so far down they could barely hear it.

Maxxie and Dan looked at each-other.

"Fuck."


	27. Hibernation

**HIBERNATION**

Jal sat slumped in her bed, resting her chin lightly on the top of Jonah's head. She felt like an absolute tool.

Suddenly, Michelle burst into the room, standing at the top of her bed with her hands on her hips.

"What is your fucking problem, Jal?"

Jal ignored her, hugging Jonah further into her stomach. The rattles he was playing with were making clacking noises, crashing through the icy silence like a piano falling out of a tree.

"He came all the way from London to Bristol to be with you, on his birthday!"

"Did you ever think I didn't fucking want him to come, 'Chelle? Why don't I get a choice?"

"Because you've been choosing fucking abstinence!"

"What's wrong with that? I've got Jonah, anyway. It's not as if I need another distraction from uni."

"Jesus, Jal! Not this again."

"S'rich coming from you, 'Chelle. How's the Alcoholics Anonymous going?"

Michelle shook her head at Jal, scowling with distaste.

"That was fucking low, Jal. And for your information, I'm fine. I can handle my vodka. I just don't drink every day."

"Hallelujah," Jal replied sulkily, a surly expression clouding up her face. She turned Jonah around, studying his expression, and began to get off the bed, "Actually, he must be hungry. I don't have time for this shit, 'Chelle. I've gotta get him fed."

"See! You're doing it now!"

"What?"

"You're using Jonah as an excuse! He's not hungry, Jal. He's fine. He's not even looking at you, for Christ's sake - he's too involved in that rattle thingy."

Jal frowned at Michelle, settling back down on the bed. Michelle sat crossed-legged opposite her, taking Jonah from Jal and putting him in his cot carefully.

"What happened Jal? I thought Maxxie said it was all going well with Jake. It seemed good when I came down two weeks ago."

Jal blinked, staring at Jonah in his cot.

"You looked happy, Jal. For the first time since Chris."

Jal sighed, turning her face back to Michelle.

"I fucked everything up again, 'Chelle."

"How?"

"Remember that he wanted to...you know?"

"What? Shag you?"

Jal looked at Jonah guiltily, the bile rising in her stomach as she began to explain, "Well, he finally convinced me. Promised that we'd be extra careful, etc..."

"And...?"

"We were just about to get into it, and then I... I said that I loved him."

"Thank G-d! I thought you'd never get over Chris."

Immediately, Jal's face crumpled, and an awful, black veil of guilt fell over Michelle, even though Jal had been an absolute bitch to her just moments before.

"Well, I didn't say that I loved _him_, exactly."

Michelle cocked her head in confusion.

"I said...I said, 'I love you, Chris'."

"Fucking hell."

Jal moaned, pushing her face into her hands.

"Well, he doesn't hate you, obviously. He's come to Bristol. You're fucking lucky, Jal. I dunno what would happen if I did that to Rich..."

Jal rolled her eyes as Michelle started to babble about her new boyfriend, yet again. It reminded her exactly why it was so difficult to tell Michelle about Chris, her pregnancy, his death and the whole Dan/Maxxie/Jake saga in the first place.

Eventually, Jal couldn't bear it any longer, and shouted back at her when Michelle meandered onto the track of how Jake and Jal could double date with her and Rich.

"Shut up! It's the day Chris died, tomorrow, 'Chelle. I don't want Jake here. I don't want him in the graveyard with me, next to..."

Jal covered her face in her hands again, forcing herself not to cry. She didn't need Michelle to get all soppy around her. She needed someone to tell her to forget Chris, tell her to grow up and tell her not to move on all at the same time. Jal was completely lost - she couldn't risk forgetting Chris, but she couldn't risk forgetting life either.

"Jal?" Michelle took her hands, forcing Jal to look up and pay attention, "You do realise that Chris can't see Jake? He's not coming back."

Jal moaned again, not wanting to have to accept it, even though she'd faced up to the truth months ago at that party, when she finally decided to give Jake a chance.

"And you still haven't shagged anyone in over a year."

Jal remembered what Anwar had said that time they took Tony home after his accident:

_They'll take your tits into care._

"Chris would want you to go out with someone else if he was here," Michelle paused for a second and Jal raised her eyebrow. Both of them knew Chris definitely would mind. He had a tendency to be quite possessive sometimes, "actually, scratch that. It's bollocks. He'd want to shag you."

Jal sighed, watching Jonah play in his cot. Michelle followed her gaze, wishing that something she said would have a positive effect on her friend.

"You've got to wake up, Jal. For Jonah as well. He's going to need you to be there with him. Not in some dream world with Chris in it. "

"I know."

Michelle pulled Jal into a hug, noticing how she fell limply into Michelle's arms rather than hugging her back.

"Jake's still not coming to see Chris, 'Chelle. I need some time alone with him."

"I take it you're not keen on the rest of us coming either, then?"

"Just let me have some time first."

They stared at each-other in silence for a while, until Maxxie appeared in Michelle's bedroom doorway.

"Alright, girlies? Feels weird being back in Bristol, dunnit?"

Jal laughed, smiling at how Maxxie was probably the person who had been the most kind to her. She wouldn't have imagined it at the funeral last year, when everybody went off to their new lives while she was left crying in the graveyard with Graham.

"You coming to mine? All the gang's there."

"Hmm..." Jal mused, her eyes glinting at Maxxie cheekily, "it looks like I have no choice."

"Nups!"

"Alrighty. Jonah's dressed anyway."

"Good," Michelle slapped Jal lightly on the side of the head, "now get off my bed. I've had to sleep on the fucking sofa for G-d's sake, in my own home!"

"You offered!"

"Mum said I had to cos you brought Jonah with. Apparently it's common courtesy."

"Remind me to thank Anna. How is family life going anyway 'Chelle? Getting on with Scarlet?"

"We're not talking about that skank."

"Oooh!"

Maxxie and Jal looked at each other cheekily as they climbed into his car, having strapped Jonah into his car seat next to Michelle.

"What'd she do?"

"Fucked Tony, actually."

"Wanker! When?" Jal gasped.

"Christmas Day, when we were looking for you cos Jonah was discharged."

"Fucking hell!"

"Found out a week later when Effy told me. She was trying to get rid of me. Turned out their parents aren't getting on so well. His mum fucked his dad's boss, apparently."

Maxxie slammed the key into the ignition and began to drive.

"Tony's not changed, has he?"

"Nope. Not one fucking bit."

Jal glanced at the signs on the motorway as the car sped past them, remembering all the familiar places in Bristol she hadn't visited for so long as Michelle bitched away about Tony.

"Hey Jal?"

Maxxie suddenly caught her attention, bringing her back to Earth.

"Yeah?"

"How come we're allowed to swear around Jonah now?"

"Fuck! I forgot!"

"What was that?"

"Puck?"

"That's more like it."

They all looked at each-other and burst into laughter. Even Jonah tried to join in when he realised they were laughing and he grinned widely, drool slopping down his chin.

"Urghhhhh," Jal scowled, "what a disgusting boy, eh?"

"I'm pretty sure Chris used to do that when you wore _that _dress, Jal." Michelle commented.

"What?"

"The lacy dark blue one?"

"Oh, I forgot about that."

"Like puck you forgot! Your tits came so far out that dress, you were practically walking around topless."

"I remember!" Maxxie chimed as they pulled into his estate, "you're such a tart, Jalander."

Jal scoffed in defiance, but it was too late. Michelle and Maxxie were jokily telling Jonah dirty stories about what they had all got up to when Chris was still alive and life hadn't turned so shit for everyone. They didn't think Jonah would understand, but Jal was cringing. With her luck, it would probably be the only thing he remembered.

Jal hauled Jonah out of the car and onto her hip, her arms firmly positioned. It made her smile sometimes, how she had adapted so quickly to having a baby after basically denying it for several months. She assumed it wasn't because she had a choice.

They kept teasing her all the way up to Maxxie's flat. They passed a few new faces which Jal and Michelle didn't even recognise.

"Oh, that's Thomas. He's from the Congo. I think Effy knows him."

Jal nodded, pretending to listen. She noticed Michelle was feigning disinterest. It was clear to everyone that she was not much more over Tony than Jal was over Chris.

Maxxie thrust open his front door, revealing his mum, dad and dog.

"Hi Dad."

"Hey, Max, Michelle, funny name."

Jal rolled her eyes, used to Maxxie's dad's inability to even pretend to be remotely PC. He made her giggle when he walked over to Jonah and tickled him under the chin, though. Mainly because Jonah erupted into a massive gummy grin, but also because Walter was more responsive than her own dad. Jal wished that Ronnie was different, and that she wanted to spend the summer with her own family, rather than staying with Michelle in her massive house in the middle of nowhere.

"He's a strong lad, missy. Got them nice blue eyes your Chris had."

Jal listened to Walter, not wanting to interrupt him for perhaps the first time in her life.

"He was a good boy, he was. Don't let this little squirt go down the drain."

Jal began to nod, but stopped suddenly. She noticed Sid and Anwar standing in the hallway, but she didn't have time to get happy about it; behind them stood two people she _really_ wasn't in the mood for seeing.


	28. Lost In Translation

**LOST IN TRANSLATION**

Jal glared at Maxxie, cross with him for going behind her back.

"Hey, I only knew about Jake. Don't get all mardy with me."

She narrowed her eyes, focussing on Jake for a moment, before turning to Walter, repositioning Jonah on her hip angrily.

"Me and Graham used to have a good old laugh in the old days. I didn't think-"

"Of course you didn't think. That's fucking obvious."

"Oi," Maxxie spoke up, "don't talk to my dad like that. How was he to know that you'd have a problem with it?"

Jal looked at Graham quivering nervously at the end of the hallway. He looked ill, almost.

"Fine," Jal forced herself to take a deep breath, "I'm sorry, it was just a shock."

Maxxie, Michelle, Sid and Anwar gawped at each-other, shocked that she hadn't exploded like usual.

"Fucking hell, Jal," Anwar shrieked excitedly, "What's happened to you?"

Walter hit him hard on the back of the head.

"Oi! No swearing in my house. I'll tell your mother."

"No, don't! Jal swore, you didn't slap her."

"Didn't your father teach you nothing? You don't hit girls, and she's got the boy, anyway."

Anwar rubbed his head grumpily, scowling at Jal who smiled back at him sweetly. For once, she felt distinctly grateful for her lack of y-chromosome.

She followed Walter into the kitchen and sat down at the table opposite the two middle aged men, with Maxxie, Jake, Michelle, Sid and Anwar behind her. She put Jonah on her lap forcefully, so Graham had to look at him. Jal stared beadily at Chris's dad, waiting for some recognition, but Graham just stared at his fidgeting hands laid on the table.

Angrily, Jal stood up, holding Jonah with her right arm and dug deep into her left jean pocket. Sitting down again, she flung two twenty pound notes and a tenner across the table.

"Here's your fifty pounds back."

Finally, Graham looked at her, bringing his hands off the table away from the money.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I..."

There was an awkward silence, and Jal's fury sort of melted away. She didn't see the point in upsetting herself anymore, and she knew her dad would be right about her immaturity if she let everyone get the better of her every time.

"Do you think I wanted money?" she spoke softly, holding Jonah's hand in hers, "do you think Chris ever wanted money from you?"

Graham shook his head slowly.

Anwar and Sid shifted uncomfortably behind Jal. They'd just spent the last twenty minutes with Graham and Jake, and they weren't sure how to react. In some ways, they preferred Jal when she was angry. At least they knew how to deal with her then.

"I found Sue," Graham stuttered, finally managing to maintain eye contact with Jal, "I told her about Jonah. She was happy."

"I thought she was long gone," Walter spoke up, "Didn't even know about Chris...passing on."

"She knew," Jal was startled to hear Sid speak, "Cassie, erm, saw her. She came when Chris was ill, when he got home from hospital."

"Cass met Chris's mum? He didn't tell me."

"Chris didn't know. Cassie didn't want to invite her in."

"What?" Jal was beginning to get irate, "she knew he missed her. How could she do that?"

"She wasn't a hundred percent, alright?"

"And she wasn't a hundred percent when she buggered off to New York either, right? Or when she gave him that spliff, or when she decided she would go out for days on end even though Chris and I worried shitloads about her."

"I know, I know Jal. Cass just, she's got this thing, she doesn't mean to fuck up."

"Yeah well, she's fucked up too many times now," Jal left the room, gesturing for her friends to follow, "And don't think I've forgotten about you, Jake. You fucking stay there. I thought I made myself clear last week. I don't want it, okay? I'm not interested in..."

Jal shook her head, flinging the words out of her mind. She stormed onto the corridor, shutting the front door so that her friends just behind her wouldn't follow her outside. She couldn't make her mind up whether she wanted them around her or not.

She clasped Jonah to her, gasping as she began to cry. Jal wanted to come home to relax, and to escape her normal life for a few months before her second year of uni started.

Fat chance of that happening now.

Now she had to deal with Chris again, and not even the nice parts but the shitty crap. Namely parents.

But worse, she had to deal with Jake.

She sat Jonah down on the concrete next to her, up against the wall and sank down beside her, hugging herself to try and stop the pain from coming.

It wasn't the first time she'd wished Chris hadn't died, but it was the first time she'd cried because she didn't want Jonah and actually wished she'd never had him.

Jal was bitter. She knew it wasn't Jonah's fault, but now, having to talk to Graham and pretend that he had any interest in her, and that she had interest in him, made her irrational. If there was anything Jal hated, it was pretences and pretending. It wasn't in her nature to see the good or honest side of people anyway. Her mum and dad had fucked that up for her easy.

Jal knew she was going to fuck everything up now. There was no way of avoiding it.

She dug deep in her pockets for her mobile and texted Jake hastily, gasping deep gulps of dirty nicotine-tainted air down her throat as she glanced at Jonah beside her.

_Go back to London. I'm not good enough for you. _

She'd already ruined her own life, and she wasn't going to suck Jake into her mess.

Immediately, she heard the door swing open and she stood up, leaving Jonah sitting on the grimy concrete floor.

Jake walked straight up to her and pulled her towards him, kissing Jal and holding her head to his. It was forceful, and Jal understood.

"You forgave me?"

"What's there to forgive?"

"I called you Chris, Jake."

"It was just a mistake. You didn't have to go rushing off like that, leaving London."

Jal stared at him, befuzzled. Her irritation began to rise again and she stiffened in his arms, breaking out of his soft hold.

"No, Jake. I don't think it was a mista-"

"It was, Jal," Jake interrupted, too forcefully for Jal's liking, "it _was _a mistake. We were just tired. It was a long day, and I shouldn't have pressured you then. It's fine. We still love each-other."

Jal stared at him, her right eyebrow raised in a painful quizzical expression. She looked worried. And Jal was. She was worried for both of them.

"Jal?"

She stayed silent, just gazing back at him in anxiety.

"Jal, I love you," Jake spoke quickly, his nerves blaring through his shaking, faltering voice, "I think these have been the best three months of my life. We love each-other. We do...don't we?"

"I..."

Jake grabbed her shoulders, forcing his eyes to look at hers, even though it scared him the more than he thought possible. Jal watched the fear grow: she saw the way his brown eyes narrowed at the edges - the eyes which were so much darker than Chris's that she couldn't even make out his black pupils from his irises even though she was so close; his olive skin was paling, shrinking back from its former health; even his curly hair seemed to have wilted somehow.

"I love you, Jal. Don't fucking do this to me."

"I'm sorry..."

"I came all the way to fucking Bristol!" Jake let go of her, running his hands through his hair before turning back to Jal, "Just say it," he whispered, "just tell me that you love me. You can do it. You've done it before."

"No I haven't."

"Yes you have. You said it at that party when we first gave it a go. You said it when we went out on that pub crawl at the after exams. And when we were pissed at six o' clock in the morning walking down Oxford Street cos we got on the wrong Tube line."

"That's just it, isn't it? I was pissed."

"So?"

"I was fucking pissed Jake! Do you honestly think I know what I'm saying when I'm completely shit-faced? I was probably..." Jal paused, knowing that if she told the truth, she'd break his heart. Jal had had her heart broken a few times, and she didn't want to have to break Jake's," I was probably thinking of..."

Jake bit his lip and looked at the ground. Jal knew she'd done it. Irreparable damage.

"Can't you let go of him, for me? Don't I make you happy?"

"You make me so happy, Jake," Jal tasted her salty tears on her lips, strolling down her cheeks, "but it's not enough. I can't make myself love you. I want to. Believe me, please, I really want to."

"You don't," Jake cupped her chin in his hands, stroking off her tears with his thumbs, "you're scared, Jal. You're scared of forgetting Chris."

Jal looked straight into his eyes, shocked at how accurate Jake was. It was the first time she'd heard it out loud, and it almost felt like she'd said it to herself for the first time outside of her head. It was like she had admitted it.

"I won't let you forget him. Jonah won't, and neither will your locket, or your photos or your whole...your fucking stubborn brain, Jal. But it's time. It's time to let go. Please, for me."

"He's not coming back, Jake."

"That's right, Jalapeno. He's not coming back."

Suddenly Jal snapped. He hadn't called her that before: _Jalapeno_.

"I can't do it. I can't be with you."

"You can! You've just said it, Chris isn't coming back."

"He never left!" Jal was getting hysterical, "he's in my head all the fucking time. There's no space for anything else. There's no space for you."

They stared at one another for what seemed like a lifetime.

"Fine. I guess I'll...I guess I'll see you around."

Jal watched him turn around and walk out into the pouring rain away from the shelter of the corridor.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm really, really sorry."

Jal began to cry again, over another man for the first time in years. It was like her first boyfriend all over again in Y11, when a snog became more and then shrivelled up when some other slag would sleep with him and she wouldn't. Again, they were walking away from her. Even Chris had walked away from her with Angie, and that was when the nightmare had started.

She didn't break out of her self-pity until she stopped filtering the noises in her head. Jonah was screaming. He was red in the face, like he had been crying for ages.

Quickly out of guilt, Jal bundled him up in her arms, rocking Jonah to try and calm him down.

She knocked on Maxxie's front door, not bothering to wipe the tears off her face, or to even stop crying at all. Everyone stared at her, even Graham and Walter. They'd heard everything. In fact, the whole estate had heard everything.

"I want to go home now, Max."

Michelle got up and came to the door, throwing her jacket on so she was ready to leave.

"No, 'Chelle. I want to go _home_."


	29. Road Trip

**ROAD TRIP**

The car was silent. Jonah was asleep in his car seat behind them, and the loud hum of the road beneath them blared into their ears, the fierce vibrations jolting up their legs. Even the rain was deafening, because there wasn't anything to distract Jal from its sound. She didn't feel much like talking anyway.

Walter leaned over and shoved a cassette into the car radio. It seemed as if he still hadn't advanced much since the early nineties.

The cassette slid into its space easily, but the music didn't come on, even after a good two minutes.

"Come on, yer twit."

Jal smiled bemusedly whilst Maxxie's dad hit the car angrily and tried to fiddle with the cassette player without taking his eyes off the road. The result was a rather ungainly swerve across two lanes.

"Flippin' heck!" Walter exclaimed, as the music finally started up, "now he decides to sing. When I've nearly gone and murdered meself and the kiddies."

Johnny Cash drifted through the air. It was typical of Walter to have country music, but this was pure depression. It was the kind of song Jal was in the mood for, self pitying and miserable, and she sunk into the melody, relishing the lyrics as they were written just for her. Problem was, it probably _wasn't_ the sort of song Jal should be listening to in her mood.

_I hurt myself today  
To see if I still feel  
I focus on the pain  
The only thing that's real  
The needle tears a hole  
The old familiar sting  
Try to kill it all away  
But I remember everything_

Walter caught sight of Jal out of the corner of his eye as he turned the corner. She was concentrating hard, immersed in the lyrics. Quickly, he pressed the fast forward button, and the scraping of the tape against the reader screeched painfully. He pressed play, and 'Whiskey Lullaby" came floating out the speakers, the story of a widow who shot herself in the head.

Walter sang along with his eyes closed, not opening them when it got to the climax and he realised he'd ran through several red lights. Jal gazed out the window, watching the dotted lines whizz by in a long white streak on the road. It was at times like this, when she felt so irrevocably glum, that music had the most effect. Michelle used to joke that Jal loved being miserable, or persecuted or something, because then she got to complain. She used to say that if Jal wasn't black, she'd want to be Jewish or ginger. Jal didn't think much of that theory, and in fact felt even more disgusted and depressed when Michelle made her think about it. She was proud of her heritage, but it didn't change that she hated being pigeonholed by race. Her dad and brothers hadn't done anything to help it, with their shitty ghetto speak and stereotypical rap music. She didn't deny them their passions, but she truly wished they liked something else. Something outside of the "black" box. It wasn't as if they carried guns around or pushed drugs.

"Erm...maybe I should just, erm, turn that off, right?"

His voice brought her back to life, and Jal watched in silence as Walter jerked the cassette out of the car clumsily and tossed it behind him.

"Oh bugger!" he muttered at Jal, "I haven't hit the boy, have I?"

Jal shook her head, replaying Johnny Cash's lyrics in her head.

_But I remember everything_

It seemed ridiculously unfair. She hated splitting from Jake, but Jal couldn't see any other way. She couldn't even contemplate starting a whole new life. Jake had hit the nail on the head, and she was scared. But just because someone had figured her out, it didn't make the fear any less. Jal cringed at the memory of her telling Jake how she had identified Chris's body, and how she ran away to London after the funeral, how thick she felt when she was pushing Jonah in his pram and people gave her funny looks because everyone, thanks to the Sun, knew her sob story, and even how she could barely look at a person with blue eyes, including Jonah, without feeling sorry for herself.

Above all, Jal hated self-pity. It took Chris from her in the first place. He didn't have the guts to tell her, and she didn't have the guts to tell him.

Jal didn't notice Walter park outside her house. It took a few seconds for her to react. She was home. Back at the house which she'd grown up in, laughed in, grieved in and ultimately, felt unable to breathe in. She stared up at the tall townhouse, taking in the straight bricks and the painted door and the huge windows. Everything looked perfect. Everything _was_ perfect. It seemed to Jal like she was looking at pure money. Millions of notes, fresh from the Penny Mint.

Suddenly, she felt a warm hand placed over hers.

"It's alright, lassie."

Jal turned to look at Maxxie's dad. She hadn't ever spent time with him alone, mainly because she avoided him. Somehow, his obsession with country and western irritated her, and his habit of calling her "funny name" irritated her even more. Jal thought it might be the stereotypes again, making her feel uncomfortable: white man, country and western music. That was what she had loved about Chris. She had never met anyone who was less of a stereotype.

"Why did he do that?"

"Graham? Well I suppose he didn't really know what he was doing. It was a bit of a shock when we found out about your little lad here. Me missus nearly keeled over when Max told us."

"Really?"

"No. She made shepherd's pie."

Jal laughed, and watched Walter smiling. He was nicer than she thought. He was more like Maxxie.

"I wasn't talking about Graham, though."

"Oh?"

"My dad," she looked out at the house again, "why did he have to fuck everything up?"

"Well, I don't know your dad very well. He's not really impressed by my sorts. But I tell you something, missy. Us dads, we don't really know what we're doing. We make it up as we go along, and sometimes it works out right, and sometimes we make a complete hash of it. It's usually the second one."

Jal returned Walter's smile, the warm spreading through her as he patted her on the shoulder.

"Give him another chance. Let him try and get it right, eh? You want young Jonah to have his grandpas, don't you?"

Jal nodded, realising that she honestly did.

She got out the car and detached the seat from the car, hauling Jonah out still in it. She walked round in the pouring rain, not shielding either of them from the wet and approached Walter's window.

"Thanks," she said once he winded the window down, "for talking."

"That's alright Jal. I can talk to you anytime you want."

He nodded and whirled the window back up, winking before he drove off.

"He didn't call me 'funny face'."

Jal grinned as she made her way up the steps clumsily, balancing her stuffed heavy bags on her shoulders as well as Jonah in her arms. Facing the front door, her smile dropped. She knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer.


	30. Adagio

THE END:

**ADAGIO**

To the outside world, there was nothing peculiar about the pair of them. The small boy, his hand clasped tightly around his lunchbox, walked eagerly, his bright eyes flittering about their surroundings. He walked step in step with the girl, their woollen-bound fingers locked together in the wind. She glanced at him anxiously and frequently, noting his excitement and happiness. Her mind began to wander, her thoughts drifting back to those memories which seemed so far away - but so easily grasped - but stopped herself from giving it all away. She had always been told there was a time and a place; "appropriate" was one of the mainstays of her domestic education.

"Hurry up, mum!"

Jal jolted out of her daydream as his voice cut through the air.

Of course, nothing she had ever done really was entirely appropriate. Jonah was proof of that. So was the rest of her family, her brothers - always on the very edge of success - her father, grandfather and skeletal step-mother, the woman who was designated to improve upon the first marital conquest her father failed at. The Fazers were proof that indoctrinating a word into the very ethos of a family gave no guarantee that the future could be altered, fate curtailed.

The wind blew through her hair as she upped the pace of her footsteps, grinning at her son. He reminded her of herself, of his father, of all of her friends. His presence had begun to encompass the qualities which she did not know could be regained. In truth, Jalander Fazer was biased when it came to Jonah. Sometimes she imagined that he was more like his father than she expected; that he emulated his habits and his personality beyond what was required of him. Yet she doubted her own abilities. She wondered if it was her who reflected Chris onto Jonah, whether she spoke of him too much, indulged Jonah in dreams which were not truthful, which ignored Chris' faults: his inconsistency, his lies, his overwhelming fear of the truth. Jal had tried to raise Jonah so that he could tell her anything, had tried not to lie - apart from the necessities - had focussed on denying his petty and fickle desires in order to uphold "Yeses are good" to its full potential.

Jonah was a child who had never felt unloved, who had never experienced the painful desperation that many children do when they doubt the sincerity of their parents' actions. He had taken to his mother's partner hesitantly. Jonah did not understand that his father was completely gone - he had seen photos, heard stories, had been encouraged to say goodnight every night for as long as his earliest memories would permit. Her second child - who was so similar to Jonah despite the contrast of their beginnings - was unimposing, had moulded itself into their lifestyle in a way that Jonah never could. Gabriel had dark eyes - the eyes of his mother - and the honey skin of his brother. His temperament imitated his father's: soft, whimsical, humorous.

Jal had feared pregnancy for the second time. She had repeated the same process of harbouring a secret, this time convinced that releasing it would have condemnable repercussions as before. Yet this time the secret had only lasted four days, had never surpassed the calendar and defied convention. This was due to only one reason: Elisha.

Elisha was an unlikely match - from a family which exuded culture and celebration so unlike her own - he was a concoction of different heritages: African, Jewish, Dutch and born in Britain. He emulated the meaning of his name, Salvation from G-d, and had acted as a rare accomplishment: a person who her father had approved of. Jal had loved Chris for his unsuitability, his erratic nature, his unconventionality. Elisha was unconventional in all the opposite ways. His approach was measured and thoughtful, his humour witty and calming, his language fluid and his body warm, perfectly enveloping her own. Elisha was present in a way which Chris never could have been: intellectually sound but synonymously crude and dirty when alone. It was a combination which was to Jal impossible to resist, despite her numerous attempts.

The pregnancy had been more tumultuous than expected - this time Jal had let herself experience every movement, every kick and every sickness she had felt. She cried at her nausea in the early mornings, complained at the swelling pains in her breasts and winced at the bright welts of her stretchmarks. Yet she enjoyed Jonah's fascination, delighted in his interest in her growing belly. It was an emotion that she grieved had been lost in her first pregnancy. She had been so fearful at that time, so emotionally distraught and scattered that she had lost sight of what became the most precious asset to her life. Jonah had - in her opinion - saved her before Elisha had arrived, recovered her sanity. He reminded her of Chris, reminded her that Chris was not gone, reminded everybody of his exuberance and love of life, however short-lived. Chris had - in a strange way - been her path to Elisha.

They had both suffered the unimaginable: the most devastating of losses. He his best friend, the subject of his unrequited love, and she the most enigmatic and loving character she had ever met. The graves of Sophie and Chris lay only metres apart, as if beckoning their visitors to meet and to embark on a simplistic journey which would simplistically alter their lives.

It had started as a fling, as an indulgent chance mistake. Both faltered in their guilt and shrank from what they perceived to be a betrayal to those they had loved. But they had reconciled, and he had allowed her to pursue him.

The mother and her son approached the playground, her clasping his hand tighter as they neared the gate. He tugged her across the colourful concrete, hopping as he swung his lunchbox in the cool air. They greeted the women indoors when they opened the door, Jonah waving at his friends - Jal smiled at his happiness, secretly sad that he was starting to grow up and separate himself from the constant presence of her body, silently removing the glue which had bound them together for over five years. She realised that her end and his beginning were not quite so fused as they had been. He waited as she unbuttoned his coat, sat him on the bench and peeled off his thick gloves. It was March, but she insisted on keeping warm.

She watched as he hung up his outer-clothes on his named peg. It was illustrated with a clownfish, a close imitation of Jonah's favourite cartoon character, Nemo, and coloured in messily by him in bright crayons. She crouched down to say goodbye, wrapping her arms around his small body, breathing in his scent and counting silently the beats of his heart against hers. Jal had to let go. She listened to his words, watching him smile and drop her hand as he said goodbye. Jonah ran off, joining his friends in the classroom. Jal waved at the teacher and turned around, ready to step out of the building and make her way home, alone again for a few seconds.

Jal strode across the playground back to the street. She glanced at the uniform all the children shared, the dark blue jumper, grey shorts or skirts and black socks. She smiled to herself when she thought of Jonah dressed so grown-up, it seemed, after years of ASDA babygrows and Mothercare joggers.

Jal pulled open the car door at the end of the road. She slid herself into the back seat behind her partner and younger child. She studied the back of Elisha's neck, as she had many times since Gabe's birth, and traced the downy, almost invisible hairs on his skin with her eyes. She loved his golden skin, the proof of family, the fleshy mix of black, brown and white. She had found it difficult to adapt to his equal parentage of Gabriel, and indeed Jonah. His religion confused her, the compulsion to separate milk from meat, to not eat pork or shellfish. Her new mother-in-law of sorts, a warm woman who had revelled in the presence of Jonah since their first meeting, had insisted in Elisha's upbringing the importance of faith and Judaism despite her gentile husband, himself a vibrant contrast in the pride of black culture Jal had never fully embraced. Her second son had been ceremonially circumcised; the permanent mark of G-d carved into his flesh and her first thankfully changed so in hospital, away from the presence of family and friends. She did not consider herself as Jewish, and nor her sons, somehow. Yet Jal was addicted to the community, to the warmth found in any close friendship group which shared universal values. It provided, simply, an atmosphere which could not be found anywhere else in her life.

The memories of Chris, those times in which her life had changed beyond repair, his death and Jonah's birth, came fresh to her as they drove through the streets of Bristol. They had returned from London when Jonah was one, and she decided that perhaps for once, family should come first. Her relationship with her father, Ronnie, would never completely fix itself. It had improved without a doubt, but the bitterness at her young pregnancy and secrecy could not be fully removed. Ronnie blamed himself often for his urgency, his demands for abortion, for her behaviour those years ago. He remembered the red rims of her saddened eyes of that first moment when he and his sons arrived home from America to find her with a baby. He remembered his actions, his behaviour when he saw it latched onto her breast, his own child now lumbered with a limpet of her own. Children for years had seemed to drain all energy from the world, sucking at the economy, his own financial cost and ultimately, the emotion. He had offered to pay for private school to satisfy his guilt, but Jal had refused. She still could not erase his initial blame and anger. Ronnie could never fulfil the role of doting grandfather, but his perspective had changed. He had privately approved of her relationship with Elisha, resigned himself to admitting Jal was not a typical Fazer, accepting the religious differences and attitudes of her new partner. Secretly, he thought Elisha was a vast improvement on Chris - and although it was frowned upon to criticise the dead, to blaspheme against their goodness - Ronnie was pleased with her choice. He had been surprised at her second pregnancy; he had never expected her to have children at all, let alone a second at the age of twenty-two. But Jal had gained maturity; Elisha's twenty-six years had admittedly been of huge support. Ronnie liked his grandsons now: he had photos of both in his music studio, hidden away from others' eyes. Although Ronnie still saw such love as vulnerable, making yourself almost too easy to hurt, Jal could see his love. He had released _Child_ - a rare song which had been his only published work of his own, exempt from young rappers and emerging artists. Jal understood it was his apology.

They got back to their old flat, slightly too small for two children, but enough for Jal and Elisha for now. Elisha unhooked Gabriel from the car seat, lifting him gently into his shoulder blades. Jal unlocked the door, grateful for not having to drag a pram up the steps to the porch for at least one morning.

She sat down on the sofa when they were in, beckoning Elisha to pass over Gabriel. He sat down next to her, watching her face as she opened up her top, unfastening her bra to feed their son. Elisha liked to see their connection. It made him feel fully part of her family, a proper father for the first time. He loved Jonah, but he knew that Jonah was not his. Jonah would always have two daddies - and that was the way that it was always going to be. Elisha liked to think of Jonah as his son, and he was sure that he did not love Gabriel any more than he loved Jonah, but however much he knew that their relationship was strong and loving, he could not ever let himself think that it ran deeper than blood. Elisha knew Jal well enough to know that she could never let Chris go, and it was for this reason that she had allowed herself to commit to him. He had thought many times of marriage, had discussed it with Jal, but they had realised that marriage was only a formality, that part of each of them did not want to deny their pasts and confuse the future with a new beginning which although was an exciting adventure, could not be seen as an improvement on the lives they had previously adored. Elisha fully believed that a person could only be the culmination of the events which they had endured. A person was nothing more than circumstance, fated only by the treatment of the hand dealt to them. He loved Jal for her past, for her wariness, the care which she set store by time and its repercussions. He had documented her pregnancy through photography, storing his mental observations on film. He noticed her equal pleasure and sadness at seeing the proofs: although proud, she carried guilt concerning Jonah's early life.

Guilt, they both agreed, was something which could never be completely erased from a person. Elisha and Jal had felt guilt for different reasons, for abandonment, love, devastation and friendship. Sometimes they entertained her old friends from school and university, those who knew Chris, although not so much since Gabriel's birth four months ago. Elisha listened when they reminisced about Jonah's father, holding her hand when he noticed Jal was getting upset. He watched as she would stroke her belly during her pregnancy, observing how the others - the blonde new-Londoner Max, workaholic Michelle, business-minded Anwar and Sid (currently venturing into co-partnership of a new brand) - reacted to her new found ease and family life. They always seemed somehow surprised to see Jal happy, to see her disinterested in the fast paced environment of the worlds in which they lived. Her music had taken a back seat for the past year, but this was not to be for long. Elisha was interested in Chris, what made Jonah - and indeed Jal - the way they were. He liked to hear what she was like before he met her, before she became less wary of the world and those around her. He liked to include all her personalities in his writing; in the various characters he created for his work, Elisha sought to incorporate Jal somehow into every one of them, so that there was a human redeeming facet to each. He liked to learn of her experiences and her history so that he could try and understand her - and himself, somehow - better. All in all, Elisha loved about Jal the thing she hated most about herself: her inability to forget.


End file.
